


A Legacy for the North

by Sandy_Cleegs



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Arranged Marriage, Clegane fight club, Daddy!Sandor, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Humor, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Puns & Word Play, Reminiscing, Romance, Skinny Dipping, pregnancy hormones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 21:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 51,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6441463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandy_Cleegs/pseuds/Sandy_Cleegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sandor and Sansa have settled in Winterfell and filled it with their children. Their oldest, Ned, is 18 and is Sandor made over. Except for his mother's blue eyes, of course, and his penchant for blushing! The Boltons and Freys have attempted to invade Winterfell so that they can hold the North. Sandor and Ned led the defense of Winterfell while Sandor and Sansa's second son, Robb, kept watch over the family. This story picks up the night of the battle in Ned's storyline.</p><p>*Author's note: Although this story does contain OC's, it is also full of some delicious Sansan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[Picset](http://sandy-cleegs.tumblr.com/post/145743326846/why-stop-with-one-when-you-can-stay-up-all-night)

 

A cheer of 'Winterfell!' rang in Ned's ears, as all around him, his father's men drank and celebrated the defeat of the Bolton and Frey forces. He slowly made his way closer to the large campfire and was greeted by men at arms, most of them with a slight nod and a 'my lord,' while others, some of whom he had known his whole life, clapped him on the back or offered a hand, followed by a toast 'To Winterfell!' or 'To the North!' or simply, 'To victory!' The sight before him was like one he had never before seen in his eight-and-ten years, not even at feasts. Large groups of men, merrily singing and laughing, some even openly groping kitchen maids and whores that had made it beyond the gates before they were closed for siege preparations.

Gazing up at the clear night sky, Ned took a deep pull from his wine skin, and gingerly wiped his mouth on his tunic sleeve, averting his eyes back to the scene before him. Across the roaring flames, he locked eyes with a kitchen maid, probably the only kitchen maid not with a man, he thought. Ned felt his palms grow sweaty and his heart beat a little faster, as he watched her make her way around the fire. It wasn't that he was completely clueless when it came to women. He had been with whores in Wintertown, and his father had been very direct in his instruction when he, and his younger brother Robb, had asked about going with some of the other men. He gave them each a golden dragon and told them to ask the whores to show them how to please a woman and then they would never needs pay for it again. He also instructed that they spend their seed anywhere but in the women, lest they get a bastard on a whore and shame their mother to no end. Lastly, and most importantly, Mother must never know. It was then Ned understood the importance of heeding his father's words, for Father never kept anything from Mother, least of all when it concerned the children.

His father reminded him and Robb of these conditions, after the fighting was done. He had told them that it was natural to seek out a female companion after a battle, so he would not tell them to do otherwise. Be discreet, finish anywhere but in their cunt, get them out of your chamber before first light, and Mother must never know. Ned knew his mother would most likely be already abed, if not headed there shortly. The events of the evening had drained her, especially after birthing his newest little sister not one moons turn ago. Ned tried to put thoughts of his mother's shame out of his mind, as he watched the kitchen maid saunter up to his side.

"My lord," she said, with a small smile.

Ned's mind froze, and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, as she peered up at him with an expectant look on her face.

"My lady," Ned said quietly, inclining his head.

"Tis a good night for a celebration. The sky is clear, the weather permits, and all seem to be in good spirits," she said, glancing at the sky.

"The Boltons and Freys might say differently," Ned softly retorted.

"I am told you fought bravely, my lord. That you, and your lord father, side by side, cutting down any man fool enough to come close, was like seeing a vision of the Warrior made flesh." Smiling coyly and placing a hand upon his arm, she continued, "So why is it that I find you over here all alone? Surely your blood is up and you have needs that a bunch of drunken men cannot fulfill?" At this, her eyebrow quirks, and her eyes full of mirth.

"Aye, you have the right of it," Ned said, through a chuckle. Looking the maid over, he found her to be quite comely. Dark hair hanging down to her waist, skin smooth and pale as ivory, deep brown eyes that remind him of a doe in the Godswood. She smiles at him, and her smile is beautiful, he thinks. White, straight teeth, pink lips, and a dimple on one cheek. Tilting her face upward towards him, she encourages him with her eyes, and his hands find their way to her face, cradling her cheeks. As he leans down to place a kiss on her waiting lips, she places her fingers over his large hands, and her gentle touch suddenly reminds him of their surroundings. Jerking back to his full height, he quickly removes his hands from her, as though she has burned him. Disappointment clouds her eyes, and she shoots him a questioning look.

"We can't here," Ned rushes out, afraid that if he doesn't get the words out quick enough, she will turn on her heel and leave.

"Where then, My Lord?" She asks innocently, peering up at him through her long, dark lashes.

"M-my chamber?"

Her smile slowly spreads back across her face at the suggestion, as she intertwines her arm with his.

"Lead the way, my lord."

 

* * *

 

As soon as Ned turns from barring the door, she descends on him, her lust wild and unruly. Pulling on the collar of his tunic, and forcing him to lean down, she captures his lips with her own, and wraps her arms about his thick neck. Her tongue darts into his mouth, licking against his own, as her lips are crushed hard upon him. When she sucks on his bottom lip, and pushes herself wantonly against his body, Ned thinks he may finish right into his breeches. He moans like a paid whore into her mouth, when her hands leave his neck and begin dancing over his body, under his tunic, and rubbing over the bulge of his breeches.

"Take it off, take it all off," she insists, and he can't help but oblige. Gripping the hem of his tunic, he rips it over his head and throws it to the floor, as she kneels on the stone before him, unlacing his breeches while he kicks off one boot and then the other. She makes short work of the laces and pushes the breeches down his hips.

"Gods! But it's huge!" She cries.

Ned blushes instantly at the remark, and swallows nervously, while peering down at the maid. Her eyes are shining brightly, as she grips him gently with one hand, and lightly licks his tip. His breath catches at the contact, and she grins at him, before taking the head of him in her mouth. Softly, he places his thumb on her dimple and caresses her cheek. The feel of her mouth and hand, working his flesh, is too much, and he will finish too quickly, if she continues her ministrations. He pulls back from her, grasping her hands to help her off the floor, her brow knitted together. 

"Your turn," he whispers, and a moment later, she has divested herself of her serving gown, standing only in her smallclothes. Ned gently pulls the strings, and lets her smallclothes fall to the floor. His heart hammers in his ears, as his eyes rake heatedly over her body. Her teats are small but full, with puckered nipples, that are the same pink as her lips. The black curls of her cunt stand out against her ivory skin, framed by softly curving hips. Backing her up, he gently pushes her down onto his featherbed, and leans over her to take a stiff nipple into his mouth, as she arches up against him. His large hands trail down her sides, and over her thighs, before sliding beneath her, and massaging her round cheeks, as she moans, squirming in his mouth and hands. Releasing her tender peak, his mouth moves down the soft flesh of her stomach, to the juncture of her hip. Running his hands over her thighs, he kneels on the stone, and finds her already glistening with need, as he places his mouth upon her. He slowly licks at her wetness and is rewarded with a low groan above him, as his cock throbs painfully between his legs. He licks up her slit once more, this time stopping to lave on the hardness that the whore had told him was the key to a woman's pleasure. As he lapped at her, he rubbed a finger at her entrance. When he pushed in to the knuckle, she clutched at his hair, and for a moment he thought she meant to smother him with her thighs, which he would have allowed. What a sweet death that would be. She grabbed his other hand and placed it on her teat, holding it there with the palm of hers, as he fucked her with his mouth and finger. 

Ned's eyes roam up her writhing body to her face, and her eyes, squeezed tightly shut, fly open and lock onto his gaze.

"P-please," she gasps.

"Please, what? Tell me what you need and I will do it." Ned said, urgently.

"I need that great oak tree you call a cock!" She all but shouts.

Luckily, most of his face is hidden from her, lest she see the deep crimson blush that takes root as soon as the words leave her mouth. Ned slides his hand off her breast, down her taut stomach, and across the dark, wet curls of her cunt, before grasping her inner thigh. Rising, he pulls his finger from her and takes his hard, dripping manhood into his palm, rubbing his tip up her wet folds. He slowly pushes in halfway, looking up into her eyes, and sees her face is twisted in a grimace.

"It hurts?" He implores, crestfallen. He wanted her smiles, not this.

"Yes. Does it hurt for you too?"

"A little. You're very... uncompromising," he mumbles sheepishly, chastising himself for his poor word choice.

"Good. We're even then. Now, don't stop!" She commands, giving him a lopsided smile.

Letting go of his cock, he places the heel of his hand upon her hard pleasure point and starts rubbing her in slow, measured movements.

"Good. That's good. Don't stop," she gasps while hooking her free leg around his hip, drawing him in, until he is fully seated inside her cunt. Leaning slightly over her, he watches her face as he begins to gently thrust. Propping herself up on one hand, she grabs his neck with her other, bowing their bodies and causing Ned's fingertips to dig into her belly, she kisses him soundly, before freeing him and falling back into the soft featherbed.

"Faster!" She insistently whispers.

"Hand or cock?"

"Oh, Gods! Both!" She cries. Ned quickly began pumping into her in earnest, lest she cry out again and wake the whole bloody castle. His grip on her thigh tightened, as the force of his hard thrusts threatened to move her lithe body away from him. The heel of his other hand rubbed her nub, while the rest of his hand laid against her stomach. He was certain he could feel the movement of his cock within her, through lower belly. Moments later, she was moaning and clutching the bed linens in her fists, as her heat contracted tightly around his cock, nearly milking his seed right out of him. Fighting off his release until she had finished, he jerked out and spilled himself up her belly to her teats in long milky strands. The leg wrapped around him started quivering slightly, as she sighed contentedly. Straightening himself, he looked down between their bodies and noticed blood on his softening manhood, as well as on her thighs.

"You're hurt! Bloody hells, I've hurt you!" He exclaimed, alarmed.

"I'm not hurt. I feel light as a feather, not a care in the world," she said dreamily, giving him a sated smile.

"But you're bleeding! Is it your moonblood?" He asked quizzically, clearly confused.

"What? Oh, that. No, that's just my maidenhead," she retorted, glancing at her thighs, before closing her eyes and waving her hand through the air dismissively. 

"Your maidenhead! I was too rough with you, I didn't know! Why didn't you tell me?" He lamented, clearly more concerned with the turn of events.

"Well, you never asked!" She chides, glancing a look at him. Ned was frantically pulling his breeches back over hips, and knotting the laces, before grabbing his tunic off the floor and pulling it back over his head, all the while muttering to himself, and searching the chamber floor for his boots. When he was fully dressed once more, he all but ran to the door.

"Don't leave," he threw over his shoulder as he unbarred the door and rushed without.

Slowly, the maid got up and went to the wash basin, wringing out the cloth and smiling, she ran it down her middle and between her thighs. Once she had wiped away the evidence of their coupling, she pulled her dress back over her form and tied her smallclothes back into place. She walked around the room, opening the wardrobe and touching the clothes inside. Gods, but he was a large man. Perched on the side of the bed she ran her hand along the bedside table, opening its small drawer. Inside was a well worn leather bound book. Stroking the soft cover, she gently lifted it out of the drawer, letting it fall open in her lap. Words filled the pages, written by a neat, yet distinctly masculine, hand. I shouldn't be reading this, she thought to herself, but like a moth to a flame, she glanced down at the pages. Lines jumped out at her, most were musings, summaries of the days events, and familial anecdotes.

 _'Father never took knights vows because of his old family. But he has a new family now and he would take a hundred knights vows if Mother asked it of him. I hope to one day have a love as deep as theirs runs.'_  Upon reading those lines she snapped the book shut, shoved it back into the drawer and slammed it closed. Wringing her hands she impatiently awaited Ned's return. When he finally burst back into the room he was carrying a wineskin and a small pouch.

"In case you have pain," he stated, offering the items to her. "There are different kinds of rubs and herbs in this bag, along with a small vile of Milk of the Poppy. They're all labeled so you will know what is what. Oh, Gods, can you read? Great bloody fool," he chided himself, while rubbing his forehead with his palm.

"Yes, I can read, and I already told you, I don't have any pain. Truly. I feel light, like I just floated down off the top of an oak tree," she giggled, while pulling on his tunic collar, and capturing his lips in a kiss. Pulling back, she ran her hand over his cheek and down the hard expanse of his chest.

"I must go, my lord," she said shyly, while walking towards the door. "Thank you for the items."

"Wait, I don't know your name!" Ned suddenly exclaimed.

"You never asked, my lord!" She chided, through her giggles. As she hurried through the door and down the hall, she heard him wail mournfully, "You great bloody fool!"


	2. Chapter 2

[Picset](http://sandy-cleegs.tumblr.com/post/145743450626/chapter-2)

 

Ned awoke to warm rays of sun splayed across his body, like a lover's arms. It was well past dawn, yet he felt like he hadn't slept at all. The events of the previous night swam before his eyes, the battle, the festivities, the maid. Oh Gods, the maid, what she must think of him. He pictured her coy, dimpled smile of white teeth and pink lips, and then the picture changed, she wasn't smiling anymore but kneeling before him with his cock in her mouth, peering up at him with her doe eyes. Ned took himself in hand with a long, hard stroke. He pictured her languidly licking at him, as she might lick her fingers after eating a sticky sweet. Ned stroked himself for true now, his release pooling and immenent. Behind his eyelids she kept his pace with her hand, eyes of longing bore into him while she whispered "I need your cock." She swirled out of his mind as his body shuddered, pulsing his seed out and onto his belly. After his breathing returned to normal and his heartbeat no longer sounded like a war drum in his ears, he pulled himself from the warm bed and padded over to the wash basin.

Wiped clean and dressed for the day, Ned retreived his writing book and sat to put memory to page, before any events started to blur. Consumed with his words, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a swift knock sounded on his chamber door.

"Seven Hells!" He swore under his breath, as he swung open his door, startling the small serving boy on the other side.

"The Lord and Lady have requested your presence in their solar, Mi'lord!" The short lad squeaked at him.

"Tell them I will be along shortly, lad." Ned said, gently.

"Yes, Mi'lord." The boy squeaked, bowing his head, and then scurrying away.

 

* * *

 

Ned made his way through the corridors, stopping a servant on the way to request a midday meal be brought to his parent's solar. He hoped the food might arrive before him, as it would do no good to see his parents while his guts rumbled their dissent. His mother already worried for him enough as it was, admonishing him when he skipped a meal, or asking if he was ill, when he preferred to keep to his thoughts. His father would look at him like he saw a grumpkin when, instead of having wine with the other men, he would return to his rooms with a book after a long day of training in the yard. Ned silently said a prayer to the Old Gods as he came upon his parent's apartments. The guards on duty inclined their heads and announced his presence. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ned muttered his thanks as he stooped, walking into the room.

"Ned!" His mother exclaimed, smiling brightly at him, as if she hadn't seen him in many moons, instead of the night prior. Her gaze filled him with warmth, as she stretched out her arms to him from her seat, biding him closer. He filled the gap with quick strides, leaning down to kiss her auburn crown, with a whispered "Mother."

"Sit. Sit with me, my son." She said, as she grasped his ink stained hand in between both of hers, indicating the empty seat closest to her.

Ned greeted his father, seated on the opposite side of his mother, before taking his place by her side. Much to his relief the table before them was filled with bread, meat, and mead, and a plate had already been made up for him. Probably Mother's doing, no doubt, Ned thought.

"Ned, please eat. Your father and I have much news discuss with you!" His mother said excitedly, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. "We have received a betrothal offer from House Mormont!" She gushed, looking much like a girl, and not the Lady of Winterfell. Ned's jaw slackened as his eyes darted to his fathers. His father gave him an slight shrug, as amusement twinkled in his eye.

"Ned... Eddard?" The sound of his mother's voice brought his eyes back to her face.

"My apologies, Mother, this news was unexpected. Please, continue." Ned strained.

"Well, as I was saying, it is their second daughter but the dowry is of decent size, and she is beautiful, if not a little wild. But we don't look down on that here, do we?" She said in tinkling tones, while patting her husband's hand. "What say you, Ned? Is this an offer you would consider?"

"W-would I be able to meet her? Before a commitment has been made? Travel should be safe for a time, and I can take a small group of men with me. Three, maybe four, so as to not attract attention." Ned implored, but as he spoke, his mother's face turned into a frown, and her brows knitted together. He didn't think it was that fool of a request, and she certainly needn't worry about his safety. His father started his sword training very young and, by his father's own admission, his skill had surpassed Father's, though Ned thought it more likely to do with Father's age, and old leg wound, than on his merits alone.

"B-but I broke my fast with her family this morning, she said you have already met." Mother stuttered. "She said you spoke last night, while she was perched on an oak log?"

Ned felt the heat radiating from his face, it's color surely rivaling his mother's hair. Gulping down his mead and reaching for another, his mother stayed his hand.

"Did she speak falsely, Ned?" His mother asked, her hand still resting on his arm, while her eyes searched his face.

"N-no Mother, she spoke truly. I had just forgotten for a moment, with all the uproar of the past days." Guilt and shame washed over him, as he thought of the previous night. "Would I be able to speak with her again, today? Now, perhaps?"

"Yes, of course! I will send for her at once!" His mother said, worry leaving her face.

"Not here, Mother, please." Ned pleaded. Gods, not here. In front of his mother and father. He couldn't bear it. "Ask her to meet me in the Godswood, so we might ask the Old Gods for guidance in this decision."

"Of course! What a lovely idea! My son, you are truly a joy to my heart." She said, patting his arm and smiling warmly.

After his mother had sent word with a maid, Ned excused himself. With a guilt ridden heart, and a cloak of shame, he made his way to the Godswood.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you cross with me?" A small but steady voice whispered to the right of him. Ned's hand paused as he chanced a quick glance from where he sat sharpening his broadsword. His eyes confirmed what his mind already knew, as they swept across the form of the maid from the previous night, before settling back on the sword in his lap.

"No." Ned whispered back, staring at the sword before him. "Yes." Came a few heartbeats later, softly, like a sigh on the breeze. In his peripheral he saw her move to take a seat beside him.

"Are you planning to use that on me?" She jested while raising her hand to rest it upon his forearm.

"No! Don't. Please." He spat, jumping from his seat, keeping his back to her, unable to look upon her face. "Gods. What you must think of me." He lamented, sheathing his sword and running his hand over his face. "I will decline the offer. I will tell them whatever story you prefer." He stated, staring at the ground, fighting to ignore the fire of her stare that threatened to burn through the layers of cloth upon his back.

"I didn't intend to meet you this way, however, the opportunity arose to meet you, not as myself,  but as no one, so I took it. I glimpsed the truth of your person by hiding behind a shield of dishonesty, and in doing so, you missed seeing the truth in me. For that I beg your forgiveness, but know that I do not regret it." She said in matter of fact tones.

"Aye. Glimpsed it, you did. That's the truth. I took your maiden's gift and asked if you could read. All without even knowing your name." He snorted, through mirthless laughter, while shaking his head, as if to dispel the memory. A lump formed in his throat and his eyes began to sting, as he fought to vanquish the beast of sadness and embarrassment that threatened to overtake him.

"My mother and I, and a few members of our household, barely made it inside the keep walls before the gate was closed and barred. We heard whispers of a host moving on Winterfell as we made our way here from the coast. We rode hard for the castle, nearly killing our mounts in the process. It was fool of us, for certain, but we were afraid to be caught in the middle, unable to turn back, or go forward. Your maester ushered us to the guest quarters, and filled in the gaps of our knowledge on the impending battle. I wanted to go stand and fight, but Mother forbade it, claiming that would be folly for true, considering we hadn't eaten, nor rested. So we hid in our chambers like cravens, I admit. When news came that the fighting was done, and Winterfell forces prevailed, I felt exhilarated, as though I had been there. The maester told us all was well, and that you and your father fought fiercely and bravely, on that I didn't speak falsely. I bid my handmaiden to give me her dress, and she complied, as she is also my dearest friend. I crept from my room and, well, you were privy to the rest, or, if you have forgotten, I can recount it for you in great detail." She finished teasingly.

"Gods, please don't." Ned huffed, in a lightened tone.

"I have heard talk of you since I was a girl, not a lot mind you, but some, here and there. Your parents caused quite the uproar with their union. A highborn noblewoman, from a house dating back to the First Men, wedding her sworn shield, and a Lannister man, no less! How controversial, how utterly improper!"

Ned stole a glance over his shoulder, and laughed despite himself, when he saw her hands clutching at her heart and a mock gasp on her lips.

"Tales of your family travel like wildfire, since they became the story that everyone wanted to tell, and hear, besides. I would almost imagine that the people would be quite disappointed to learn that your mother isn't locked in the tallest tower of Winterfell, and that you aren't an evil murderer that slays children in their sleep. No, the truth is boring, but evident, if one has eyes. I witnessed it myself, this morning, while I sat with your Lady Mother. They married for love." She shrugged, and brushed a fallen leaf off her skirts. Ned turned to face her, meeting her eye, and nodding slightly in agreement.

"While most talk of you, and your family, is innocent enough, a little of it is most disgusting. I won't give life to these vile tales by repeating them, but I had to know for myself. What I found was a strong warrior with a good heart and a thoughtful demeanor, and I wasn't left writhing in disappointment." She finished in a suggestive tone, a coy smile ghosting across her lips.

"Your cheek is beautiful!" Ned blurted out, before swearing under his breath. "Gods, all of your parts are beautiful but..." Her eyebrow quirked at his admission.

" _All_ of my parts, My Lord?" She teasingly questioned. Ned's face bloomed with heat at her implication.

"Yes. No. Seven Hells! I only meant that you're beautiful all over, but your cheek, when you smile, is very beautiful. Ah, I'm a great bloody fool, please, let us forget I spoke at all." He pleaded lamely, his cheeks burning hotter with each syllable.

"Forget? Oh no, I am just dying to hear about all my beautiful parts. I must beg you to continue!" She commanded playfully, as Ned sheepishly met her gaze. "But, if you have forgotten, My Lord, I might could show them to you again, to give your memory a refresh." Springing from her seat, she grasped at his collar, his neck, anywhere her hands might find purchase, and force him to meet her waiting lips. She kissed him hungrily, and in a way that made him feel thoroughly debauched. Just when he thinks his lungs might burst, she starts trailing kisses over his jaw, stopping to run the tip of her tongue around the shell of his ear, before gently grazing her teeth over his lobe.

"W-we can't. We can't here." He whispered, while pulling away from her eager mouth.

"Why not? It's just us here, no one needs know." She countered, while attempting to pull him back to her.

"It's too open, it's too..." His words trailed off as she rubbed the length of him through his breeches with her palm, enlisting this new form of attack to crumble his defenses. Grasping his hand tightly, lest he try to run like prey that has just caught the scent of a lurking danger, she lead him behind a dense grove.

"Here, sit." She said softly, indicating a patch of earth at the base of an ancient tree. After he removed his sword belt and settled against the trunk, with his long legs stretched out before him, she lifted her skirts and sat in his lap, her legs straddling his thighs. Placing his hands on her cheeks, he stroked her dimple with the pad of his thumb.

"You had the truth of it after all, my lady! My memory is refreshed, no needs to continue," he said playfully and pretended to try to stand. Laughing at his jest, she teasingly nipped at his lips.

"Yes, my lord, but I was told that the Godswood was home to many great trees," she said, rubbing her hand over the bulge of his breeches, "and I intend to see them all!" She finished in a suggestive whisper, while loosening the laces of his breeches, freeing his hard cock. Placing her hands upon his shoulders, she settled her cunt on his length, and began rocking her hips, rubbing her wet smallclothes against his hardened flesh.

"Beautiful Lady Mormont, what shall I call you?" Ned whispered, moving a hand down her neck, the swell of her breast, her ribs, and beneath her skirts, to place his thumb upon her center of pleasure, through her smallclothes. His thumbs moved in tandem, swiping small soft caresses on her body, one on her nub, and the other on her dimple.

"Gods, Lover, I hope. Among other things." She said on a sigh.

"Does it give you pleasure to taunt me so?" He asked, feigning hurt.

"If this is what I reap from it, then yes, absolutely, yes! Great pleasure. Without question." She laughed, while holding him in her gaze. Leaning in to kiss him, she stopped, a hair's breadth away.

"Joryn." She whispered into his mouth, like a prayer.

"Seven fucking hells!" His father's voice rained down on them like fire, burning away the moment, and leaving them blistered. A tightness formed around his throat as he is roughly yanked up by the neck of his jerkin. As his legs fought to orientate his body, his eyes locked onto the heated steel grey glare of his father.


	4. Chapter 4

"Put your fucking cock away before I rip it off!" His father roared, roughly casting him away by the tightened collar at his neck, causing Ned to stumble back as he was loosed from his father's grasp. Overhead, a great flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree. Ned's hands trembled as he fumbled with the laces of his breeches, tucking himself away and securing the cords.

"Have you gone soft in the head? This is how you honor your mother's house, her bannermen? Your bannermen!"

His father's anger threatened to suffocate him as it surrounded them, catching in his throat and forcing the air from his chest.

"Father, I -"

"Shut your bloody fool mouth! You get a betrothal offer and you run right out to rut her in the buggering woods?" His father shook with anger, clenching and unclenching his fists. For the first time in Ned's life, he feared his father might strike him, but even more so, for the first time in his life, he feared the man himself. His father's eyes were seething, barely recognizable, and his face twitched with the grinding of his jaw.

"Please, Mother, might we go pray in the Godswood?" His father mocked him, in a grating falsetto. "Couldn't even wait to accept the offer before running off to show her your thrice damned cock? Couldn't even remember speaking to her nigh an hour past!" He bellowed.

His father grimaced in disgust as his mind quickly worked out the falseness of the situation, the truth dawning in his eye, enraging him all the more.

"Your face flushed the color of a Weirwood leaf when your mother relayed the girl's words. Tell me, did you let her get through the gates before you descended upon her or did you rush without and have her against the outer wall with the Boltons and Freys breathing down our necks?" His father spat, closing in on him in quick strides, their faces almost touching. While staring into his father's furious eyes, Ned realized he was meeting someone he thought not to ever meet, The Hound.

"Are you fucking touched, boy?" His father rasped, menacingly low, spittle flying off his words and landing upon Ned's cheek. Standing toe to toe, and eye to eye, Ned forced himself to hold his father's glare, suppressing the urge to cower away. From the corner of his vision, he saw a small ivory hand come to rest on his father's arm. Ned thought it went unnoticed, until his father's eyes ripped away from him, a few heartbeats later, and landed on the lady at his side. No one moved, nor spoke, even the creatures in the Godswood were eerily silent.

"My Lord." Joryn said softly.

The blink of his father's eye was the only indication that the man in front of him was flesh, and not stone.

"My Lord." Joryn tried again, standing strong, and holding the eye of the Hound, a flinching gaze that had caused lesser men to quake in their boots. "Please do not place all the blame at Ned's feet. I am also to blame, if not more so." His father's face betrayed nothing, as he made no attempt at response.

"Ned will accept my Lady Mother's offer, and we will wed. Then, no one needs know how truly _touched_ we were." She said, with a mischievous glint in her eye, and a hint of a smirk upon on her lips.

As time stretched on, Ned searched the face of the man before him, looking for any sign that his father was still inside, while Joryn's words echoed in his ears, as she stood like the bear of her sigil, unwavering. Air that had been held captive in Ned's lungs rushed forth, deflating him, as a barking laugh erupted from his father.

"Aye. And you're a clever one." His father rasped, as the ghost of the Hound vanished.


	5. Chapter 5

Of all his children, Sandor thought Ned to be the smart one. He certainly played at it well enough, what with his books, and his writing, holed up in his chamber like a damned maester. A mummer's farce, if the events of the day indicated anything. He would have hardly believed it, if he hadn't witnessed the bloody fool with his own eyes. Sandor held a small relief that his wife had asked him to go retrieve them from Godswood, instead of sending one of the guards. He would have to kiss her for that later, not that he would tell her why, and not that he needs a reason. Glancing down at the girl on his arm, he could plainly see why his buggering fool of a son would want to be close to her. Sensing his gaze, she upturned her head to the side, meeting his eye. Sometimes he missed the days when no one dared look upon his ruined face. 

"I should confess, My Lord. The first time Ned and I spoke, I wasn't forthcoming, and led him to believe I was a kitchen maid." She said, with a tinge of regret.

"I didn't realize he was blind, as well as dense." He rasped. 

"I had only wanted to see his character when he thought me to be a powerless maid. I never thought for this to happen." She said, sadly.

"Aye, and you got an eyeful of his _character_ today in the Godswood, as did I." Sandor stated gruffly.

"Please, My Lord, please believe that he has treated me gently, and honorably." She said, in strained tones.

Sandor couldn't hold back the mirthless, barking laugh that ripped out of his throat and bounced off the walls of the stone corridor that lead to the guest quarters. He stopped suddenly, halting their progression, looking up and down the path, before turning his face to the girl.

"I saw with mine own eyes how he thought to honor you, girl. You needn't tell me about his bloody honor." He spat. 

"H-he said we shouldn't, when I advanced on him in the Godswood. He tried to stop me, but I wouldn't listen! Please, you must believe me! It is I, that deserves your wrath, not him." Her voice quavered.

"He is bigger than a plow horse, girl, and stronger, besides. Yet, he couldn't stop your advances? It seems his affliction has spread, and you needs see the maester at once. I'll hear none of this blasted foolishness." Sandor regretted his harshness, as the words poured out of his mouth. The girl's eyes shined with unshed tears, and her lips began to tremble, as she fought to withstand his hurtful words. Sandor's heart broke at the sight, as he was flung back through the years, to another place, and another girl, fighting to hold in her tears. That girl would be most displeased with him, if she happened upon them, in this moment. So, for the love he bore his wife, he willed his ire away, and attempted to comfort the girl in front of him.

"Now, now, none of that. What happened to the fierce She-Bear I witnessed in the Godswood?" He said, patting her hand, where it still rested upon his arm. 

"She was chased away by a most terrifying hound dog, My Lord." She said meekly, as a small grin graced her lips.

Sandor's laughter roared through the keep, taking with it all traces of his wroth. 

"Fear not, girl, his bark is much worse than his bite. Of that, you can be certain. And he's a bit daft, besides." He chuckled, a slight twinkle in his eye. "You're too clever by half, girl, might be I'm even starting to believe you did hoodwink that thrice damned boy of mine." The girl's eyes sparkled with mirth at his confession. "Let's get you back to your mother now, she's no doubt wondering where her cub has run off to." He said, patting her hand once more, before resuming their trek. 

"Beautiful, and too smart for your own good. You'll be the death of him, for true. Mayhaps, even at mine own hand." Sandor said sorrowfully, as they reached her chamber door. 

With her hand on the door, she looked him in the eye. 

"No, My Lord, you are quite mistaken. For I intend to be the life of him." 

With that, she rushed inside, closing the door on her heel, and leaving Sandor staring at the space she had just vacated. 

"Aye, you may have the right of it, after all." He whispered to the empty space.

Smiling to himself, Sandor turned on his heel and went to search out the one who was the life of him. 


	6. Chapter 6

For half a sennight Ned had avoided his father, keeping to his quarters, and taking his meals alone. He no longer feared his father's wrath, but couldn't bear the thought of facing him with the shame that hung over him, and followed him like a shadow. 

When a young lad brought word, after his evening meal, that his father had requested his presence in his solar, Ned had half a mind to run from the keep, rather than to stand before his father and see the disappointment in his eye.

Ned's boots had never felt heavier as he ascended the stairs. Coming upon the door, and standing without, he felt he might lose his stomach upon the stones beneath him. Ned swallowed down the bile in his throat, as his knuckles rapped quietly on the door, before pushing it inward. 

His father sat in a large wooden arm chair in front of the hearth, staring into the crackling flames like a priest of the Red God. 

"Take a seat, boy." His father commanded, still as a statue, eyes never leaving the fire before him. 

Ned took a seat in an arm chair in front of the hearth, facing his father. Already perspiring, the heat rolling off the flames only made his discomfort increase, as his stomach threatened to spill once more. 

"When you were born I was certain your mother had cursed me. I used to sneak into your chamber while you slept, just to watch you, and for the first time in my life I prayed, more than a bloody septon, I prayed, to any god that was listening, that I had changed my mind, and no longer wished to meet the Stranger. Looking down upon you, I knew I had to live. Your mother had the whole of the North behind her, willing to raise their banners if she had needs of them. But you, so tiny in your crib bed, had only me behind you, your only bannerman."

"Father, I nev-" Ned started. 

"No, boy, let me finish. If I stop now, I'm like not to start again, and you needs hear this." His father cut him off. 

"Did you know that when you were a tot you used to escape out of your crib bed in the night to come sleep in our bed? Your mother thought I was bringing you in and I never told her different. I was a damn fool, you could have cracked open your head on the stones if you had fallen, and then where would we be. The first time you broke out, I watched you do it. You didn't cry when you stirred, just sat up and looked about your chamber. I was taking my leave when you saw me at the door. You held your hands out to me, but I shook my head and bid you lay back down. I left the door ajar and watched you through the crack. Your face screwed up and I braced myself for a scream that never came. Instead, you calmed and a seriousness overtook you. You stood up in the bed, grasped the wood at the side, and hauled yourself right up over it. You hung from your fingers on the other side, toes dangling in the air, and just like that you let go, landing soundly on your feet. You came straight to the door and opened it, walking right out of your chamber. I had already hidden behind the door of my quarters before you came without, and I watched you march right down the stone towards me. I climbed back into bed and waited, and sure enough, that blasted door opened and you came waddling right in. You struggled to pull yourself up into the bed, making little grunts of exertion the whole time. When you finally made it up the bed, I pretended to be asleep, and you pulled back the furs and snuggled your little body right next to mine, laying your head upon my chest. 'I come sleep wif you, Fafer.' You told me in the darkness, patting my chest with your little hand. When I started to silently weep like a little maid, you thought I shook from a chill and pulled the furs up to my chin, tucking them around me. You were the first child in my whole buggering life that ran towards me, and not away. The first person in my whole fucking life to never cower away from me with fear in their eyes. And I ruined that in the Godswood, damn me." 

Ned bowed his head, cradling his forehead in his hands, as he felt his tears burn hot trails down his face, falling off his chin, and splashing on the stone under him. His father's voice shook slightly as he continued.

"You don't need an old dog at your back, now that you're a man grown with the whole of the North behind you. But you'll always be my first pup, and where ever-" His father's voice broke, and in one swift movement his father stood, yanking Ned up and out of his seat by his arms, and crushing him to his chest in a tight embrace.

"Where ever you go, this old dog will be right on your heels, your most loyal bannerman and your staunchest supporter." His father whispered, his tears falling freely, mixing with Ned's own, upon his cheek.

After their tears had all but dried, his father stepped back, his hands gripping Ned's shoulders. 

"Bloody hell, we needs some wine. Look at us, two little maids." His father chuckled. 

They sat drinking by the fire until late in the evening. After that night, they could be found every seventh day of each sennight, sitting in front of the fire, drink in hand, talking and laughing, until nothing but embers burned in the hearth. 

The common folk even began calling the seventh day of each sennight, 'The Lord's day,' though none of them could say exactly why.


	7. Chapter 7

Sandor heard the hushed, hurried tones of their voices before he ever laid eyes on them. He strained his ears to make out the words, as he quietly crept upon the small alcove. He recognized Ned's voice, and the urgency it held, and the second, higher pitched voice of the little She-Bear. 

"Please, Ned? Won't you do this for me?" She pleaded, insistently. 

"Jor, I can't! You know I can't. My mother and father, they would hang me up by my feet outside the gates! I wish I could, believe me, I do. Please, don't be cross with me." His son's voice finished, softly.

Seven hells, not this bloodly business again, Sandor thought.

"You could, Ned, you just choose not to! I had thought you might even enjoy it!" The She-Bear hissed back, her ire evident. 

Just as Sandor was about to make his presence known, lest the boy give in to this folly once more, the girl tore off down the corridor, and away from their secret meeting in the alcove. Sandor stood watching the girl's retreating form, when his son rounded the corner, and walked right into his father's chest. 

"Father!" Ned exclaimed, jumping back. "H-how long have you been standing there?" He asked, anxiously. 

"Long enough. Too long, mayhaps. You must be a half-wit if you're-" Sandor started. 

"No, Father! Gods. It's not what you think it to be!" Ned rushed out.

"Tell me how I should think it to be, then." Sandor rumbled from his chest.

"She wants me to... I don't know if I should say." Ned's internal struggle apparent on his face.

"Out with it, boy, I don't have time for your intrigues, or the patience, besides." His father rasped. 

"She wants me to spar with her in the training yard." Ned's reply tumbled out, the words strung together, and Sandor's mind worked to separate them. "I already told her no, so you needn't worry about it." He said, a little more relaxed, now that the truth had been revealed. 

"The little She-Bear wants to spar in the yard, does she?" Sandor chucked, his surprise thinly veiled.

"I told her that it wasn't proper, that ladies didn't train in the yard. She let me know quite plainly what she thought of that, before informing me that on Bear Island all women are taught to defend themselves and their lands. She grew wroth with me when I reminded her that we weren't on Bear Island." Ned said, forlorn. 

"Why spar with you if she has already had training?" Sandor asked, trying to get the right of it. 

"She trained with spears, and now she wants to try taking up the sword." Ned replied, vexed. 

Sandor grunted, rubbing his hand up the twisted flesh of his face, unfocused eyes staring off in the distance. 

"Would you allow her to train in the yard, if the choice fell to you alone?" His father asked, quietly. 

"It would bring her joy, and I would be at peace, knowing she might be able to defend herself, if the need arose, and I wasn't around to handle matters. So yes, I should think I would." Ned braced himself for his fathers rebuke, but it never came. 

"Aye." Sandor grunted, his mind elsewhere. "Bring her to the stables on the morrow at the hour of the bat." He said, turning to take his leave. "And tell her to wear breeches, if she can." He threw over his shoulder. Sandor wasn't completely sure that it wasn't folly to involve his son in this, but he would just have to trust that the boy would keep like a penitent brother of the Quiet Isle, silent. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 It was easy enough to convince Joryn to sneak out with him and into the night. She donned breeches that were a bit too tight in all the right places, forcing Ned's breeches to be too tight in all the wrong places, considering they were meeting his father. They only spoke once, as they made their way to the stables. Creeping down a passage, Joryn leaned around the corner, looking for anyone that might be out at this hour. Ned missed the signal of her hand, indicating that all was clear, too preoccupied with watching her breeches strain around the plump cheeks of her arse. He didn't even realize he had been caught, until she pushed herself against him, forcing his back against the cold stones. 

"Did you see something that caught your eye, My Lord?" She whispered. "What was it, My Lord? A guard? A serving girl? A stray cat?" She said, brazenly rubbing her body flush against his own.

"Jor, I can only grant you one thing you seek tonight. The only one my father will allow." Ned said, his disappointment apparent. "Until we are wedded, at least." With that, he grabbed a handful of her round backside and placed a tender kiss upon her lips. Turning her loose, he took her hand and led her the rest of the way to the stables.

 

* * *

 

 Ned stood dumbfounded, his mind fighting to make sense of what his eyes were seeing. Closing his eyes for a heartbeat, and slowly opening them once more, he took in the sight before him. All of his sisters, save the new babe, were in the stables, dressed in breeches and tunics, with their hair bound upon their heads. The oldest of them, Catelyn, was distributing wooden practice swords of varying sizes to the rest, as they stood talking and giggling. All around the stable, lanterns had been hung upon the walls casting a warm but bright glow upon them. Ned was working and unworking his jaw as his father came upon them.

"Lady She-Bear, go get a practice sword from Cat. You can run through some paces with the little ones, and if you haven't been beaten bloody by the end, you can get some work in on the older ones." His father said to the lady at his side. Joryn smiled wider than the Trident, as she advanced towards the other girls, stopping suddenly and turning on her heel, she rushed back, throwing her arms around Ned's middle in a crushing embrace. 

"Thank you, Ned." She whispered into the fabric at his chest, before releasing him and dashing off to his sisters. 

 Ned looked at his father, feeling thoroughly confused, as if everyone around him was suddenly speaking Ghiscari. 

"Your mother is a proper little lady. She always has been. I knew that from the moment I first laid eyes on her, here in this very castle. Even after the Stranger tried to pull down everyone around her, I imagine she turned to him and said 'Beg pardons, Ser, but I can't attend you today, shall we plan on another time?'" His father laughed, amused by the vision of his mother's gentle rebuff. "Your sisters and I meet here in the stables so if he ever comes knocking on their doors they can meet him with a gentle word and a sword in hand." His father finished proudly. 

"M-mother doesn't know?" Ned sputtered.

"Aye. And I'm like to keep it that way so keep your buggering mouth shut, and bid your little lady do the same." His father said, before striding off to address the gaggle of girls in the heart of the stables.

Ned stood to the side and watched as his father weaved through his sisters and his lady, ordering them through various stances, stopping to correct a foot here and an arm there, until their bodies were moving through the forms in perfect unison. He commanded them through the same exercises that he forced the men to perform in the yard. Only Joryn and the younger girls struggled, his older sisters knew the steps perfectly, and completed them without hesitation. He ran them through the paces until their faces glistened and the tendrils of hair at their necks clung to them with sweat. 

"Cat, Aryanna, you'll go last tonight." His father said, breaking them off in pairs to spar. "Lynara, you're with Lady Joryn, but remember she's never taken up the sword before and we don't want to send her back to her chambers too bruised and bloody." His father chuckled. "Myriame and Jonnel, you'll start us off." 

Ned watched his small sister, Jonnel, just past her fourth name day, step into the middle of the stable, tiny practice sword in hand. Myriame followed right behind her, making Jonnel appear even smaller, though only four years separated them. 

"At the ready, pups!" His father instructed, after the remaining girls had moved to the side to watch, leaving the area clear. 

Jonnel's face scrunched in determination, her bottom lip held captive between her teeth. Myriame appeared unfazed by their sister's sudden tenacity, seemingly a bit disappointed to be sparing with her, but never speaking out against their father. Myriame must not usually spar with Jonnel, Lynara more like, since Lynara was only one name day older, and was partnered with Joryn, Ned mused, as the bout began. Myriame parried every blow with ease, and the younger girl's frustration was evident on her face. Just when Ned thought Jonnel might burst into tears, Myriame began giving her instruction on how to best counter her defense. 

"See there, I always reach for it. A swift blow here and I would lose my balance and land in the dirt. That's how Nara always bests me."  Myriame said, quickly sticking out her tongue and making a face at Lynara where she stood off to the side. 

"When you start holding your balance, dear sister, I'll think of a new way to knock you in the dirt!" Lynara gayly retorted. 

When Jonnel's blows became sloppier and more sluggish, Myriame conceded the fight.

"Well fought, Sister, you will be the best of us yet." Myriame said, patting Jonnel upon the crown. Jonnel bounded to their father, sword still in hand. 

"Whoa, now, little one. No running with swords." His father said, lifting Jonnel into his arms and settling her on his hip, while taking the wooden practice sword from her little hand. 

"Did I do good work, Father?" Jonnel asked, in her childish tilt. 

"You did excellent work, my pup." His father replied, kissing her perspired forehead. Jonnel wrapped her arms around their father's neck and placed a kiss upon his cheek, before laying her head in the crook of his neck. Soon she was fast asleep in his arms.

"Lynara, Joryn, you're up!" His father commanded, placing Jonnel's sword with a collection of other wooden swords nestled in cloth at the base of the stable's inner wall. 

Ned watched Joryn pick a sword off the ground, but Lynara shook her head, saying something he couldn't make out, and pointed to a different one. Picking it up, Lynara took the sword Joryn held and placed the hilt of the other sword in Joryn's hand. Lynara put her hand under Joryn's elbow, forcing her arm out straight, studying the line it formed. Nodding in approval, she looked at Joryn, speaking once more as Joryn started turning her forearm and wrist to the sky, and then back towards the earth. Joryn smiled at his sister, and he could read 'thank you' come off her lips. Lynara mouthed a quick reply that caused Joryn's head to fly back in laughter.

"Ladies, are we going to sit around eating cakes or are we going to fight?" His father rasped, not unkindly. 

Joryn and Lynara quickly took their places, and the sparring resumed on his father's command. Joryn was clumsy and unsure with the wooden sword, but what she lacked in skill she made up for in speed and agility. Her footing was well placed and sound, and Lynara would have no hope of knocking her off balance. Lynara didn't give her an easy start, and rained down blow after powerful blow, upon her. Joryn met each with a quickness but struggled to hold the sword in a way that would allow her to turn the tide. Their grunts echoed off the stable walls with each clack of their swords, and he could hear his father whispering beside him. Before long, his father was shouting commands at the girls, as little Jonnel slept on, blissfully unaware, in his arms. 

"She'll tire out for certain, She-Bear, just wait her out and she'll defeat herself! Lynara, where's the fire, girl, calm yourself! Joryn, hand up higher on the hilt, turn into her and force her back on herself!" His father bellowed, watching them intently.

Lynara did end up tiring herself out, but not before knocking Joryn's sword from her hand and into the dirt. Lynara dropped her sword, crouching slightly, and panting, with her hands on her knees. Once she had regained her breath, she straightened and picked up her sword, walking over to where Joryn had come to stand beside him. 

"Well met, Good Sister!" Lynara exclaimed, her breath still coming more quickly. "Soon to be, I mean." She corrected, laughing lightly at her misstep. 

"I'm not so sure after this night, I didn't realize Ned had so many fierce warriors here to watch over him and defend his honor! I might just set out for Bear Island at once!" She jested, beaming, as Lynara laughed. 

Lynara fetched a skin of water and offered it to Joryn, just as his father was ordering the final spar to commence. 

Catelyn and Aryanna fought like full grown swordsmen, and not like girls of three-and-ten, and one-and-ten. They were swift, yet calculated. Neither their movements, nor their eyes, ever betrayed their next attack. They sparred with heat and intensity, neither one allowing any reprieve. Their footing was sure and agile, and their strikes and parries were well placed and full of integrity. They were far better than any man Ned had seen in the practice yard, save Robb and his father. Their fight stretched on, already longer than the previous, and neither one of them seemed to be in any discomfort. They danced together with a grace so balanced that Ned might have believed himself to be watching a well rehearsed mummer's show, if Catelyn hadn't dropped her arm a fraction too late, allowing Aryanna to lightly graze her. His father started pacing back and forth, Jonnel bouncing on his hip, as Aryanna gained the upper hand. 

 "Yes, yes, keep going, you've got her now! Watch your yourself, keep your arm up, parry, parry, strike! Cat, guard yourself, keep moving your arm like that when you strike and you'll take a swift blow to the side. Aryanna, next time she leaves herself open, strike her ribs! Don't get yourself cornered, Cat!" His father bellowed, striding quickly down the stable, as Aryanna gave chase.

Once Aryanna had gained the upper hand, she never let it loose, and soon she had Cat pressed against the stable wall, wooden sword at her throat. 

"I yield!" Cat screeched, tossing aside her sword. 

His father was beside the girls a moment later, praising their efforts, and speaking animatedly as they walked back towards the group. Once they had rejoined with the rest, his father addressed them all. 

"Excellent work tonight, pups, excellent work." His father rasped. All at once, his sisters descended upon their father, embracing him on all sides, as their father took turns patting their crowns with his free hand.

"Remember, listen to your mother and kill your enemies with courtesies, but if that doesn't work-" 

"use a big, fucking sword!" Ned's sisters screeched in unison, giggling at the impropriety of their words. 

Once the girls had bid their father, Ned, and Joryn, goodnight, and had taken their leave, save Jonnel, who still rested soundly, Ned began helping his father take down the lanterns, as Joryn collected the swords and tucked them away in the bundle by the wall. Ned took his sister's sleeping form from his father, and walked around the stable, rubbing circles on her back and nuzzling his nose in the hair at her crown. He caught Joryn watching him from where she crouched, stowing away the swords. He could see the dimple upon her cheek, as she smiled. When he met her eyes with his own, she bit her lip and quickly turned her face down to the swords, a small blush high upon her cheeks.


	9. Chapter 9

Sansa sat in the great hall, breaking her fast with Lady Mormont. Lady Alysane sat in a place of high honor beside her, but seemed preoccupied, and distant, not warm as she had been upon their previous encounters. 

"I beg your pardon for being so forward, Lady Alysane, but is aught amiss?" Sansa tried, hoping she had not overstepped her boundaries. The lady sighed deeply, and placed her fork upon her plate, before turning towards Sansa. 

"I was most overjoyed when you accepted the offer of my daughter's betrothal, My Lady. I hope what I'm about to tell you does not tarnish our newfound alliance." Lady Alysane trepidatiously said. "One of my household guards caught Joryn sneaking back into her chambers in the middle of night. When I confronted her, she told me that she was not at liberty to say where she was or what she had been doing. She has always been a willful child, but never outrightly so insolent." Lady Alysane lamented. 

"This was the night prior, My Lady?" Sansa implored, a small smile forming on her lips. 

"Yes, My Lady." Lady Alysane said mournfully. 

"Not to worry, Lady Alysane, she was probably in the stables with my husband." Sansa said gently. 

"In the stables, w-with your husband?" Lady Alysane implored, clearly concerned with this turn of events. 

"Yes, My Lady, with Sandor." Sansa stated, unaware of what her words were implying to her companion. "Since we are to become family, I suppose it's only right to let you in on a family secret." Sansa continued, as Lady Alysane's unease grew with each word, her mouth set into a hard line on her face. "Sandor takes our daughters to the stable the third and sixth day of every sennight to teach them sword fighting." Sansa whispered conspiratorially. Lady Alysane let a rush of air out of her lungs and clutched at her chest. 

"My Lady, you had me going for a moment!" Lady Alysane laughed, still holding her heart. Sansa was unsure by what she meant, but laughed with her all the same. 

"Please, call me Sansa, we are to be family, and now you know our darkest secret." Sansa said lightly. 

"Thank you, M-Sansa. I extend to you the same courtesy, Alysane will do just fine." Alysane said, before continuing. "May I ask why he doesn't just train them in the yard, during daylight?" Alysane asked, quizzically. 

"Because then I would know!" Sansa chuckled, meeting Alysane's eye. 

"B-but you do know." Alysane said, looking confused once more. 

"Yes, but they don't know that!" Sansa said in tinkling tones, leaning in before she continued. "When Catelyn was just past her fourth name day, I noticed my husband sneaking out of our chambers late in the night. The next time it happened, I followed him and saw him sneaking Catelyn out of her room. I went back to bed, quite confused, and thought on it until I fell asleep. When I awoke the next morning, Sandor was snoring soundly beside me." Sansa said, uplifting her palms. 

"So you followed him again?" Alysane questioned. 

"Oh, heavens, no. I gave my handmaid's son sweet cakes, and in exchange, he followed them to the stables and told me he spied them playing with wooden practice swords. The time after that I waited until I was sure they were already in the stables, and then I went about spying on them. Sandor would have heard me trailing him if I had not waited. I witnessed my little lady, dressed in breeches, and holding a miniature practice sword, as Sandor put her through the paces, stopping to correct her form, before resuming once more. When she grew frustrated at a particularly difficult step, she tossed the sword aside, and asked him why she had to learn all of this. He knelt down and placed his large hand upon her shoulder and asked her what I had told her to do with her enemies. She instantly answered, 'Kill them with courtesies.' Sandor told her that was correct, and then he asked her what she should do if that didn't work. Her face screwed up in concentration, while her little mind worked to find the right answer. After a time, she admitted that she didn't know. Sandor leaned in and said," Sansa paused, and leaned in to Alysane's ear, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth from any prying eyes, before continuing, "he said 'You use a big, bloody sword!' and placed the wooden one back in her hand." Sansa sat back, dropping her hand, and laughed with Alysane.

"Her fourth name day? Why that's, what, eight years past?" Alysane said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. 

"Nine, actually." Sansa retorted, grinning widely. "I've given him quite a few more ladies to train since then. I'd wager my sweet babes are probably the best swordsmen Winterfell has to offer, by now."

"Why continue this charade for so long? Why not just confess the truth?" Alysane asked, eyes shining.

"This way, I don't have to deal with them begging me to train with the men in the yard." Sansa said, as though the answer was quite obvious. "And I filled our home with little ladies, if I didn't give him this he would most likely keep me up all night, tittering about our chamber in worry, like an old crone." Sansa sputtered out, covering her mouth like she had just spewed a litany of curses. "By this point, it brings me amusement, if one of the small ones forgets herself, and starts to say something in my presence, the older ones all rush over to hush her up. Watch them when they come to break their fast. They will all be walking a little slower, struggling to sit with ease, and grinning at each other like the cat that got into the cream, mark my words." Sansa said, patting Alysane's hand.

Sure as the sun rises, Sansa was right. One by one they filed in, greeting the ladies with strained curtsies, Joryn among them, before settling at the far end of the table, heads together, breaking their fast amid soft whispers. 


	10. Chapter 10

"You, uh, know you shouldn't try to, to couple, with her, when her moonblood is upon her?" Sandor asked, cursing inwardly at the whole thrice damned ordeal. He had sat in his solar with Ned, attempting to give him advice on his upcoming union, for nigh an hour. Sandor found it especially difficult to put to words some of his more delicate intimacies with his wife. His blasted son knew of who he spoke, as Sandor had never pledged himself to another. 

"Yes, Father." Ned replied, clearly uncomfortable.

"And if she acts differently towards you during this time, take it with the salt, it will pass." He said, gaining a small amount of confidence. 

"Aye, Father, I know. Her moonblood is upon her now." Ned mumbled.

"How would you know that, boy? I swear, I will flay you if-"

"Seven hells! She told me! She said it was good it was happening now because it wouldn't interfere with the, the wedding." Ned finished lamely, a fierce bloom blushing on his cheeks. "And when I told her I didn't understand her meaning, she told me I was as dumb as the dirt beneath my feet, and ran off." Ned said. 

"She meant-"

"I know what she meant, can we please just not talk about it?" Ned pleaded. 

"Bloody hells, you think this is easy for me, that I want to talk about this blasted shite with you? I would rather run naked as my name day through Winterfell and face your mother afterward, than to sit here and tell you not lick her from arsehole to cunt because it can cause affliction. I was a buggering fool when I married your mother, and I made some fool mistakes, besides. If I can prevent you from being half the fool I was, then it was worth our moments of discomfort." Sandor rasped, not ungently. 

"I understand, Father. Can we have some wine at least?" Ned practically begged. 

"Aye. Bring it all over here, and tell the lad in the hall to run down to the kitchens and fetch more." Sandor commanded, relieved at his son's suggestion. Dumb as the dirt? Far more brilliant than which ever god created it, more like.

After Ned had spoken with the boy and gathered all the wine in the solar and placed it on the table between them, Sandor continued. 

"After a woman births a babe, she has her moonblood for about two fortnights, sometimes more, sometimes less, and you're not to, to have, to take any liberties with her for at least three fortnights, even if her moonblood has stopped." Sandor said, awkwardly. "Bloody hell. What I'm trying to say, boy, is get yourself some good memories before the babe is born, cause you're gonna have needs of them for your hand for quite sometime afterwards." Sandor gulped down his drink like he had been wandering the sand seas of Dorne for days, without a drop of water to wet his lips. Slamming his cup back down on the table, he forced himself to continue. "Also, when you do resume your activities, it's a good idea to spill outside. Too many babes in a short time can cause a strain on her body. I got an earful from the maester when your mother ended up with child just two moons after she had borne Lynara." Sandor said, shaking his head at the memory. 

"Yes, Father, I understand. I-is that all?" Ned asked, draining his cup, and refilling the both of them.

"I bloody wish. After she has a babe, her body will change. H-her t-teats, fucking hell, her teats will grow quite large and you will want to touch them, but they can also be quite sore, so if she allows you, do so gently." Sandor said, draining his cup, and then refilling it. "She may also bear marks on her stomach and teats, and mayhaps, even in odd places. Your mother has some in the bend of her knees." Sandor said, laughing, before growing serious once more. "But they never go away, so best not mention them." Sandor took a gulp from his cup. "Is there aught you needs ask?" Sandor asked.

 "When she is with child, is it permissible to, to, to lay with her?" Ned ground out, his face glowing red.

"Aye. But, don't be too rough with her. You can be rough with her in some aspects but... Seven hells, don't toss her about, but the force of, of your pleasure, is safe enough. You might even find she likes it most when she is with child. Her tastes are like to change during that time, when she used to like it gentle, she may bid you be more, lively, with your coupling." Sandor said, raising his cup once more. "Moreover, when her teats fill with milk for the babe, you may get some yourself, without even wanting it. One time I got it right in the eye while your mother was-" Sandor stopped abruptly, clearing his throat. "Just know it could squirt out at anytime, most like when her pleasure is upon her or when she is at rest. It will soak your bed linens in the night. Your bed linens will also be soaked when the babe comes. When Aryanna was born, I awoke in the middle of a sopping puddle, for a moment I thought one of us had made water as we slept! It ended up being child birth waters, they come gushing out of her like the Ruby Ford, and the babe follows not long after. Speaking of making water, you should just put a chamber pot right in your bed if you ever want a sound sleep again, what with her climbing in and out of it at all hours." Sandor shot a look at Ned, seeing his confused look. "Gods, boy, don't actually put a chamber pot in your bed, it was a jest. Just know she will be making water, a lot. Might be you find yourself wishing she were making water, instead of standing helpless over your little lady love as she loses her stomach time and again. Treats she once begged for will be pushed away, and she will curse your hide as she runs for the chamber pot once more." Sandor said, his face twisted in a grimace. "The whole ordeal of babes is a gruesome one. When you cut a man, you know where he will pour forth. With a babe, you never know where the mess is coming from, or where it's going to end up. They lose their stomachs more than a drunken sellsword." Sandor said, shaking is head. 

"That I know. I remember holding Catelyn when she was a babe and she let loose right down my back!" Ned exclaimed.

"Aye, you're lucky it was just the once. I've been covered in muck for nigh twenty years!" Sandor said, as they laughed heartily, the wine taking it's effects. After a time, Sandor grew serious once more. "The mess is nothing after her feet swell to the size of melons. She will complain about how much they pain her, and you will not want to touch them. Gods, you won't want to touch them. Just settle the furs on top of them, and slide your hands underneath to give them a rub, putting your mind elsewhere. Going through your fighting stances works well, as does envisioning her naked with her mou-" Sandor cleared his throat once more, before draining his cup. "When her time comes, the maester and midwives will all bid you wait in the hall. I'll never forget the shrieks your mother let loose when you were coming into this world. I busted through the door ready to draw steel while they all tried to push me without. One look at her and I couldn't leave her side. By the time she was with Aryanna, the midwives had started making a place for me by the bedside in the birthing chamber. Just know, if you do attend her, don't look anywhere but her face. You may think you want to look elsewhere, but, bloody hells, you don't. Don't even chance a quick peek. It took me three moons to be able to put my mouth upon her cunt again!" Sandor said, forgetting himself in the moment until the words were already loosed from his lips.

"Gods, please tell me there's no more." Ned said from his seat, his head in his hands. 

"Just know also, that men of our, our stature, needs be gentle taking our pleasure after a babe is borne, because she might still be tender." Sandor said. 

"Our stature?" Ned said quizzically, eyeing Sandor.

"Fucking hell, boy. A great oak doesn't grow in the woods without the seed from another great oak." And with that Sandor reached for his cup but found it empty, so he grasped the decanter and took a deep pull, just as a fresh bloom covered Ned's face. 


	11. Chapter 11

"So, you've known?" Ned sputtered at his brother, Robb, while stilling his mount.

"Only for about two years past." Robb said, in light, tinkling tones, stopping his mount at Ned's side. "When Catelyn was one-and-ten, I chanced upon her chiding Orsen in the yard for his poor stance. Orsen told her to mind herself and not speak out on things she knows nothing about. At least, I'm pretty sure that's what he was trying to say, before Cat tore into him, telling him he could never hope to defend Winterfell if he couldn't even hold his sword properly, and that she was only trying to help him. He advanced on her, as I advanced on him, but she didn't need me. She disarmed him with just her hands, and threw the practice sword at his feet, before stomping away. I caught up to her, and, Gods, she was angry. She told me by accident, while furiously swiping tears off her beet red face, that Father would never allow her to stand that way because it left your core too unbalanced, and your hold easily undid. When I asked her what she meant, she went white as a sheet, before bursting with tears anew. She made me swear to never tell another soul what she had said. She must have told Father her err, because he pulled me into his solar that same night." Robb finished in relaxed tones. 

"How is it, that I just saw Orsen, alive and well, not two days past?" Ned said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Oh, I think Cat realized her folly in trying to train men in the yard, and so, she never told Father about it. She steers clear of the yard now, and Orsen steers clear of her. Especially after I fell upon him in armory and threatened to hang him from his entrails outside the gates. He once crossed to the other side of the bailey, just so he wouldn't have to pass her." Robb said, smiling brightly, with a tilting laugh. "They're quite good, the girls. I go meet with them when I tire of knocking men in the yard around and need a true spar. Cat and Aryanna have even bested me a few times!" Robb said, lightly. 

"Father asked me to aquire a straw man for him. I think he means to start working them with steel." Ned said, in a worried tone.

"Yes! He does! Only Catelyn and Aryanna, though. High time, he has been over cautious, they have been ready for ages." Robb said, nonchalantly. "Father and I had pried up some of the stones of the floor and hid steel there for the girls, on the eve of the battle. We told them where they could find it, if we were slain, and gave them a small map so they might get Mother out and to one of the vassals." He finished, with a shrug.

Ned took in the sight of his brother atop his steed. He was seemingly unperturbed by his words, then again, Robb never seemed bothered by anything. He was quick to laugh, and everyone about them soon fell under his enchantment. Where Ned had their Father's stern look, Robb's features were soft, like Mother's. Robb stood as tall, and just as broad, as their father, but no one seemed to notice it nearly as much. Where ever Robb went in Winterfell, the servants doted on him, as if he were still a child, and no where near his years of six-and-ten. When Ned was younger, he had been envious of his brother's easy demeanor, and how he always seemed to have the right word for every occasion. 

"I have been thinking that I will ask Mother to make a betrothal offer on my behalf." Robb said, smiling at Ned.

"Did you have someone in mind?" Ned's mind sifted through the possibilities. Robb had never mentioned an intrest in anyone, however, he also kept things tight to his chest.

"Yes, actually, do you remember that Umber girl that came to visit three moons past?" Robb asked, a twinkle in his eye.

"The one that told you she hated you and that your very presence irked her?" Ned stuttered, trying to figure if this was a jape. 

"Gods, yes, that one. With the great, big arse! She's turned me into a lovesick fool." Robb said, smiling.

"Why would you pick her? Shouldn't you try with someone that might actually accept? Mother will be shamed if it is declined!" Ned fought to make sense of what Robb was telling him. 

"If I told everyone in Winterfell that the sky was green, what do you think they'd say?" 

"They'd probably all tell you that you're bloody brilliant." Ned grumbled.

"If I told Lady Umber the same, what do you think she'd say?" 

"That's the stupidest thing she's ever heard, and you needs go see the maester, most like." Ned replied.

"Exactly!" Robb said, smiling like a dolt, before spurning his horse forward once more. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

Sandor sat beside his wife as the wedding feast roared around him. He watched his daughters dancing, Catelyn twirling around with Jonnel in her arms, smiling at the sight. Lynara grabbed Joryn's hand and pulled her out with the group of them. 

"You seem to have taken easily to her." Sansa said, over the din.

"Who? The She-Bear?" Sandor asked.

"Yes, Sandor, Lady Joryn." Sansa said through false exasperation.

"She's an easy sort to take to. Not prim and proper like you lot." He replied, with a grin.

"Why, My Lord, I thought you liked that I was prim and proper." Sansa said, in mock admonishment.

Sandor leaned over to his wife, an impish grin on his face, and a glint in his eye, before whispering in her ear. 

"Oh aye, I like it. I like it most when my mouth is on your cu-"

"Sandor!" Sansa exclaimed, swatting his arm playfully. "You-" she leaned to whisper in his ear. "You scoundrel!" She said, laughing at her crassness. 

Sandor's laugh vibrated over the noise of the feast, causing those seated nearest the high table to turn towards them. He leaned in to reply, but his voice was lost in the cries to bed the newly wedded couple. 

Ned was pulled from his seat by a large group of women, and they made short work of baring his chest. He stood still as stone, as they flitted about him, jesting and touching him, wrangling the clothes off his back. Sandor noticed his son's fists clenching and unclenching, and followed his line of sight. Joryn stood laughing among a group of men, playfully swatting their hands away, as they poked and prodded her, ripping part of her dress in the process. The women around Ned started cackling and whistling as they undid his laces and groped him beneath his breeches. He started to walk towards Joryn, but seemed startled when he looked down at the hands holding him back, as though he hadn't even known the women were there. Joryn was being hoisted atop the large group of men, attempting to hold the tatters of her dress over her chest, while threatening one of the men that she would take his fingers off of him, if he didn't mind himself. 

"I've seen that look before," Sansa said, leaning in to Sandor, "right before you-"

Suddenly, Ned was striding towards the group of men, dragging the women with him, and peeling their hands off of him along the way, his eyes never leaving his new lady wife. Reaching the outer circle of the men, he began bodily moving through them until he was at the center, and pulled Joryn down into his arms amidst loud protests from the men, and women alike. He swiped a quick thumb over her smiling cheek, before hoisting her over his shoulder and made to exit the hall. The crowd, not to be out done, followed close on his heels, yelling out bawdy japes and coarse ribs, until he had left the hall. A few of the braver ones even followed him out, though Robb stood at the door and turned most of them back.

"Right before I what?" Sandor asked, remembering his wife's words.

"Did that!" Sansa said, laughing merrily.

"I never did that!" Sandor exclaimed.

"Yes, you did! Only, you said quite a lot of colorful words while you did it." Sansa said, giving him a smirk. 

"Aye, and I bet they never said the like about you again. I could have ripped Errold's tongue right out of his thrice damned mouth, the bloody wretch." Sandor said, clenching his jaw. 

"But you did end up doing what he said that night!" Sansa replied in a whisper. 

"Aye, and I hope to do it again tonight! That doesn't mean I needs his shite mouth talking about it!" Sandor said, vexed at the memory. 

"Sandor, that was nearly twenty years past, you can't surely still be cross with him." Sansa said, disbelief on her face. 

"When I look upon your face, it's like no time has passed at all. You still look the maid I married, and make my breeches feel it, besides. And if I ever see that whoreson Errold again, I'll take his fucking eyes. Believe that, little bird." Sandor said, while stroking his wife's hand. 


	13. Chapter 13

"Release me, you brute!" Joryn said, after Ned had kicked the door of their chamber closed with the toe of his boot, while she laughed and slapped at his back from where she was slung over his shoulder.

Ned stooped over and lightly placed her on her feet, in front of the door, before he righted himself. 

"I just couldn't bear watching them paw at you for a moment longer." Ned grumbled.

"It's all in jest, Ned, to get your blood up!" Joryn said, lightly rubbing his forearm, her other hand still clutching the fabric of her bodice to her chest.

"Oh, aye, my blood is up. Theirs would have been up too, all the way up the stones, and to the rafters, most like, if I had witnessed any more." Ned said, clenching his jaw. 

Joryn laughed as she moved her hands atop Ned's shoulders to give them a light rub, her exposed chest forgotten, until Ned's eyes filled with heat. He lightly grazed her nipples with the pads of his thumbs, as she gasped at the contact. Quickly capturing her lips with his own, he slid his hands around to firmly grasp her arse, and pull her flush to his body. His palms rested on her round cheeks, his long fingers massaging at the inner crease of her legs, through her gown. She moaned into him, and stroked his neck with her fingertips, his bare chest rubbing against her sensitive nipples. His tongue danced in her mouth, and his lips worked hers, until they were red and swollen, his need pressed hard into the softness of her belly. She gasped for breath when he broke the kiss to trail his mouth over her throat. His moans, vibrating on her skin, went straight to her core, wetting the fabric between her legs. Letting her loose, his eyes bore into hers, as he got on his knees before her, taking a stiff nipple into his mouth, sliding his hands under her gown, and up the backs of her thighs, rubbing the skin of her inner thighs, just before her folds, with his fingertips. He could feel the dampness of her smallclothes as they lightly grazed his fingers while he massaged the tender flesh of her thighs. Her fingernails raked his scalp, as her hands slid through his hair, and held him to her heaving breast. His fingers began searching for the ties of her smallclothes, as he inched his way forward on his knees, forcing her to back to the door, and teasing her captured nipple with quick flicks of his tongue. He gave her pink, puckered nipple one last broad sweep of his tongue, before he took the other peak into his mouth, as she moaned loudly above him, and her head rested on the wood of the door, while she tugged at his hair. He pulled roughly at the ties of her smallclothes, ripping the fabric away, and tossing it over his shoulder. His hands worked at the remains of her dress, searching urgently for the fastenings that that held it to her hips.

"Bloody hell!" He rumbled, as he abruptly released her nipple.

"Here, I can-" 

Before her words had left her mouth, he grasped the hem of her gown, and ripped it up the middle. Grabbing one of her legs, he settled it atop his shoulder, exposing her wet cunt to his eager mouth. He licked at the crux of her pleasure, and when he moved his tongue through her soft folds, she grasped the back of his head once more and held him to her, while she moaned his name. 

"Yes, My Lady?" Ned said, in mock seriousness, peering up at her, with heat in his eyes. 

"Wha-why, why did you stop?" Joryn said, aghast, her eyes wide.

"Oh, I thought you had needs of me, you kept calling out my name." He said, biting his lip to hide his grin.

"I do have needs of you." She said, pushing the back of his head and forcing his mouth upon her cunt once more. 

His mouth mercilessly teased her nub until she began begging for more, sounding as though she might weep. He stroked her slit with his thumb, and pushed inside, rocking his hand. His fingers rubbed up the crease of her backside, and her hold in his hair became painfully tight, as she urged him on. Withdrawing his thumb, he slid his fingertips up her wetness, and fucked her tight cunt with his finger, rubbing at his hardness through his breeches. When she pleaded for more still, he pressed a second finger into her, and freed his cock, taking himself in hand with hard pumps of his fist, as the heel of her slipper dug roughly into his back. 

"Ned, I- can we-" She whimpered, her legs beginning to tremble. 

"Can we what?" He asked, removing his mouth from her, his long fingers stilling inside of her.

"M-might we lie down?" She asked, her legs trembling in truth.

Ned withdrew his fingers, and placed them in his mouth, savoring her taste, before removing her thigh from his shoulder and rising to his feet. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to the featherbed and placed her gently atop the furs. 

"I needs you do something for me." Ned said, and she made to grasp his cock. "No, I needs you get that blasted dress off." He said, playfully swatting her hand.

"Why? You were doing such a magnificent job!" Joryn said, pointing to the rip up the front.

Ned grabbed at the dress once more and tore at it until it fell fully open in tatters. Joryn pulled her arms from the remains of the garment, as Ned began running his hands down her calves to her feet, removing her slippers, and tossing them to the floor. Her lust built and she slid a hand down to rub her need while she watched him pull off his boots and breeches, as the muscles of his long, large legs rippled with his movements. He stilled as he dropped his breeches on the floor, his eyes focused on the motion of her fingers, and the muscles in his neck jumped as he swallowed. He began pleasuring himself in slow tugs, inching towards the bed as she was spreading her legs, allowing him to climb between them, and resting her thighs atop his, as he was rubbing his tip at her entrance. He sheathed himself inside of her wet cunt in one thrust, as he tightly gripped her hip. She continued to stroke herself, as she gazed upon his face, his feral desire splayed across his features, as he used her body to take his pleasure. He watched her cunt as it stretched around his thick cock, while he filled her with his need, and his heart hammered in his ears. As the wetness of her pleasure coated his manhood, dampened the curls at his base, and glistened on her thighs, he rocked harder into her, as her moans heated his blood, all the more.

"F-faster. I think I-" she stuttered, as he gripped her hips, and thrust fast and hard into her, as her fingers hurriedly swiped across her nub. "D-don't stop. Gods." She loudly moaned, head tilted back, while her other hand sought purchase in the furs, as she clinched her release upon his cock. Loosing her hips and leaning over her, he slid his arm under her back, curling his large hand around her shoulder, cradling her to his chest, as she was moving her hands to rake her nails upon his broad back. The grip on her shoulder tightened as he pounded into her, his hips smacked roughly against her thighs, as grunts rumbled in his chest and off his lips, and mixed with her moans in the air above them. His thrusts were erratic, as his cock was starting to pulse, shooting his seed deep inside of her, while a slew of curses came falling out of his mouth. He rested atop her, while his body jerked sporadically, as the last of his pleasure left him, and allowed his blood to cool.

"You're as heavy as an aurochs!" A voice beneath him said, as a hand lightly swatted at his back. He peered down at her, and his eyes blinked slowly, until his mind finally registered her words.

"S-sorry." He said, through a sheepish grin, as his face reddened. He withdrew from her and rolled to his side, as he clutched her to him, and ran his hand over her hair, while she placed featherlight kisses upon his chest. 

"I've got something for you." Ned murmured, kissing her shoulder, once they had both regained themselves. 

"Again, already?" Joryn teased, as Ned began disentangling himself.

"Hush, you." He said, swatting playfully at her backside, while climbing out of the bed, and walking to the wardrobe.

"Is it a new gown?" She asked, laughing, while pulling fabric from beneath her, holding up the torn tatters.

Ned looked over his shoulder and laughed upon seeing the cloth dangling from her fingers. 

"If you'd rather have a gown, might be I can trade this for it, fifty gowns, more like." He said, rummaging in the wardrobe, before pulling out a sheath, intricately designed with bears, dogs, and wolves. Realizing what he held, Joryn jumped out of the bed and rushed to his side.

"For me? Truly?" She asked, sliding her fingers down the length, stopping to trace the outline of a bear.

"Only if you swear not to use it on me." Ned said, laughing. "If you don't like the pommel, we can get a different design." Indicating the black bear that stood fiercely atop the hilt. "It should be light enough for you, it's a miniature version of my own, but you should wait to use it until you've had more practice." He said, unsheathing the sword halfway. 

"It's beautiful, I love it, truly." She gushed, as a tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the blade.

"If my mother asks, I gave you a necklace." Ned chuckled, sheathing the sword, and laying it in her palm, before swiping up the trail of her tear with his thumb.

With much care, she walked to the featherbed and reverently placed the sword atop the furs, as she stroked the pommel through tear clouded eyes. She turned suddenly, and rushed back to where Ned still stood in front of the wardrobe. Throwing her arms around his middle, and kissing the hardness of his chest, while whispering her thanks, as he ran his hand in lazy circles upon her back.

"Oh, I have something for you as well!" Joryn exclaimed, eyes bright, as she stepped out of the warmth of his arms. Hurriedly, she went to her trunk that sat against the wall and threw it open, banging the top against the stone. She rummaged through her things until she retrieved a leather bound book and presented it to him. On the front, ' _The Tales of Ned and Joryn_ ,' shined in gold leaf. Ned ran his fingers over the letters on the soft leather of the writing book. 

"Thank you, I can hardly wait to fill its pages." Ned said, reaching out to caress Joryn's cheek with his thumb. "In fact, I think I needs start now, lest I forget a detail of what we just did." Ned said, fighting back his laughter, and holding the new writing book above his head, as Joryn's mouth flew open, and she began jumping, trying to take it back.


	14. Chapter 14

Robb watched Lady Umber as she laughed with the group of ladies that surrounded her. He had felt exhilarated when he had learned that she would attend the old Greatjon for the wedding. His excitement soon vanished, once they had arrived, and he hadn't the chance to speak with her. Draining his wine, and placing the empty cup on the nearest table, he starting moving towards her, willing his nerves to calm, and forcing a smile upon his face. When the other ladies noticed his approach, they made eyes at him, smiled brightly, and whispered hurriedly amongst themselves. When she saw that he was the reason for the change in demeanor, she excused herself and made to leave the hall. Robb rushed behind her as she exited, and offered her his arm, to which she scoffed at him.

"My Lady, what have I done to offend you so?" Robb asked, his eyes searched her face, as he smiled down at her. 

"Your _presence_ offends me, My Lord." She said, not slowing her steps.

"Yes, but why?" Robb chuckled, as he kept her pace easily with his long strides.

She rounded on him, in a sudden motion, and placed her hands at her hips. 

"You prance around with a stupid grin on your face, as if you know a jest that no one else is privy to, you should be a mummer, or better yet, the court fool. You're vapid, with not an once ounce of wits about you. Well, I, for one, think you're the jape." She said, eyes flashing and pointing her finger at him. "Just leave me be. You would have more luck winning the hand of one of my father's men, than you ever will at winning mine."

Robb's easy smile left his face, as she cut him deeper than any sword ever could. Her words reverberated off the walls, and back into his ears, as she glared heatedly into his eyes. 

"I see." Robb said, swallowing down the bile building in his throat, and forcing himself to continue. "Well, My Lady, when I was a child, I learned it easier to laugh with others, even if they're laughing at you, than to cry about them. When I was a young boy I could never get my words to come out correctly, even though I tried, Gods, I tried. The other children used to tease me about it, some of the adults too, until I made it into a jest. I laughed with them during the daylight, but when the sun was gone, and I was alone in my chambers, I would practice my speech until sleep overtook me. You're right, My Lady, I am the jape, and always have been." Robb said quietly, inclining his head, before turning on his heel, and leaving her staring at his retreating back.

 

* * *

 

"I think, I think Lady Marra hates me." Robb said, his back to Ned, while he savagely struck the straw man before him, causing tufts of straw to float on the wind, landing at his feet.

"Aye. She told you so." Ned said, to his brother's back.

"Yes, she did. Thank you, dear brother, I'd nearly forgotten." Robb said, his voice quavering, before sheathing his sword into the straw man's heart, and turning to face Ned. "At your wedding feast she told me I'd have better luck winning the hand of one of her father's men, than I ever would of winning hers. Among other such pleasant things." Robb mourned, his face glistened with exertion, while his eyes glistened with unshed tears.

"She's just one girl, there will be others." Ned said, taking in his brothers words.

"And if there aren't, there's always her father's men, but they all departed with the sunrise." Robb said, laughing sadly, turning to pull his sword from the straw man. Once he had freed his sword and sheathed the blade, he turned to Ned once more. "What of you, you've had two nights of wedded bliss. Is it all you hoped it might be?" Robb said, the twinkle slowly coming back to his eye. 

"Aye, but I'll not discuss it with you, you buggering arse." Ned said, laughing at the mock offense on Robb's face. 

"It better be, with all the uproar you caused during the bedding! For a moment, I thought I might have to draw on them, as they fought to catch a glimpse!" Robb said, his easy smile returning. 

"Aye. Don't remind me. Bloody bastards." Ned said, returning his brother's smile, while rubbing his hand across his forehead. 

"Sit for a rest in the hot springs? Race you there." Robb said, but without waiting for a reply, he took off running out of the yard, Ned following, fast on his heels. 

 

* * *

 

"Your thrice damned brother is gone, slipped out in the night, like a common thief!" His father spat, as his mother silently wept into her hands. 

"Robb?" Ned asked, trying to make sense of it.

"Do you have another brother I needs know about? Of course, Robb!" His father growled, as he tossed a piece of parchment across the table, towards Ned. Reading the parchment, and translating his brothers meaning easily enough, Ned had no hope of holding back his groans. 

"'I've gone to fight a giant,' tell me the meaning of this, boy." His father rasped, as he leaned over, his palms flat on the table.

"That damned bloody fool went to the Last Hearth to ask for Lady Marra's hand." Ned said, as he grabbed the parchment from the table, crumbled it in his fist, and threw it angrily into the fire of the hearth.


	15. Chapter 15

Ned heard peals of his wife's laughter as he walked down the corridor to their chamber. Once he was without, he heard her voice, as she spoke with someone inside. 

"No! He didn't! For true!" He heard Joryn exclaim, before a smaller, quieter voice murmured a muffled response. 

Opening the door, he saw that his wife and her handmaiden were sitting in the middle of his bed like children, talking and giggling with one another. When the handmaiden heard him, she jumped out of the bed and her legs tangled in her skirts, tripping her, before she righted herself, and offered a quiet 'Mi'lord' with her head bowed.

"Alyse, it's just my _husband_!" Joryn said, in a tone that made Ned suspect they had been talking about him. He remembered the handmaiden, Joryn had told him they were quite close. As he wondered what Joryn might have told her, his cheeks began to warm. 

"Ned, tell her she can be my friend again!" Joryn said, exasperated. 

"I really must be going, Mi'lady, Mi'lord." Alyse said, shooting Joryn a quick smile, before swiftly exiting.

"You should have told her to stay, she just told me the most fantastic tale!" Joryn said, as she clasped her hands in front of her breast, and smiled at Ned, excitement in her eye. "Come sit with me." She said, patting the spot beside her.

Ned kicked off his boots and crawled into the bed, resting his head on Joryn's lap, as she contined. 

"Alyse  _befriended_ one of the Umber guards at our wedding feast, so happens, he also was one of the honor guards that travelled back with Robb and your father. She told me, that he said, Robb showed up at the Last Hearth and strode right into the training yard, donning only a dress that barely covered his knees, his leather riding boots, and his sword belt, and started biding the men to spar him! They all thought it was a jest, until he drew on them, and when he began knocking the men in the dirt, people flooded out of the castle to watch!" Joryn squealed.

"He showed up at the Last Hearth, in a  _dress_? Ned said, as he rubbed his face, and his lips formed words that never came forth.

"Yes! But then, then he began asking for their hands during the bouts!" Joryn exclaimed.

"H-he asked the old Greatjon's men for their hands? While donning a dress?" Ned said, as he stared up at Joryn in disbelief. 

"Yes! Can you believe it! I thought Alyse was having a jest!" Joryn said, as she laughed and shook her head. 

"Seven bleeding hells." Ned said, covering his face with his hands.

"There's more!" Joryn exclaimed, as Ned groaned in response. "After a time, several of the men grew tired of the farce and gathered about him to put an end to it. Lady Marra rushed forth and put herself between him and her father's men. He turned to her and said 'It seems none of your father's men will have a jape, either,' to which she replied 'I'll have you.'" Joryn said, smiling down at Ned. 

"She accepted?" Ned said, eyes wide, as Joryn nodded her head.

"Lady Marra's father strode out into the yard to make sense of it all, and when he got the right of it, he nearly stopped breathing from laughter, before telling Robb that he had the spirit of his namesake within him." Joryn finished, laughing, with tears in her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 "I nearly pissed my dress when I saw the old Greatjon hobbling out into the yard! He looked like he may flay me where I stood, and his men would have gladly held me down, they were so cross, I swear it!" Robb said, laughing, as he reclined in the waters of the hot spring.

"Why go through all the trouble? Why not just take another?" Ned said, staring at his brother like he had a snark perched atop his head.

"We have the Clegane curse, brother. Once we have our sights upon someone, whether it be in love or war, even a thousand others will never do." Robb said wistfully, trailing his hand through the water.

"You have gone mad. I only hope, for your sake, that she is around to save your hide a second time, once Father hears all the details of this foolishness." Ned said, shaking his head.

"As do I! By the time he arrived, I was donning breeches and was supping with the old Greatjon in his solar, the ink on the betrothal offer not even dry." Robb said softly, his mind in the memory. "And I've gone mad? I heard a most troubling tale of you in the Godswood..." Robb said, raising his eyebrows.

"Bloody hells, you little, fucking-" Ned exclaimed, jumping up in the waters and making towards his brother.

"Seven hells, keep that monster away from me! If I look it in the eye, I'm like not to sleep for a fortnight!" Robb bellowed, laughing, while grabbing Ned about the neck and attempting to drag him below the water. 

They wrestled in the water like children, stopping once they were out of breath, and a truce had been called. They reclined in the hot spring until dusk, and their father came to retrieve them. Instead of returning them to the castle, he disrobed and joined them. The three of them relaxed in the warm waters, talking and jesting, until the sun had fully set and the moon was high in the sky.


	16. Chapter 16

Sansa loves the feel of her husband's voice. Whether he is rasping into her ear as dawn breaks, or barking commands at men in the yard, it seems to rumble out of him and right into her. She loves the intensity it holds, and the ferocity that it could hold, at any moment. She most loves the feeling of it when they are in their marriage bed, and it comes out lower, more urgent, pulling her release from within her.

"You want him tonight, do you?" Sandor rasped, beneath her, as she sat straddling his hips, his manhood inside of her. Sansa bit her lip, and a smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, her eyes dancing. "Makes no difference to me," he rasped, giving her one upwards thrust, reclining with his arms folded beneath his head. "Touch yourself," he rumbled, the sound vibrating on her thighs. His eyes turned to large dark pools when Sansa's hands fluttered on her belly, before cupping her breasts, and gently squeezing them. "Touch your cunt," Sandor rasped, and gave another hard upwards thrust, causing Sansa to fall slightly forward, and catch herself with her hands on his muscled chest. Righting herself, she trailed her hands down the broad expanse of Sandor's body, towards her own, admiring the hardness beneath her fingertips. "Touch your fucking cunt," Sandor rasped, moving his hands to grip her hips and punctuating his words with hard upwards thrusts. Sansa could feel the sound of his voice move inside of her with his thrusts, and the words that it carried excited her all the more. She quickly placed one of her hands to the front of her woman's place, slowly caressing her fingers over the hardness she felt there.

"Faster," Sandor barked, the heat of his eyes running her through, "and play with your teat." Sansa began rubbing herself more urgently, and delicately pinched at her peak, watching her husband's eyes fighting to decide where they should focus. The feel of him within her and the motion of her fingers, made her breath come more quickly, her chest beginning to slightly heave. "You like that, do you? You'll not take your pleasure perched upon my cock, little bird. You'll take it beneath me, as I fuck you into the seven hells," Sandor rasped, pulling her hand away from her woman's place. Sansa wanted to weep at the loss of touch, her need pooling strongly in her belly, and staying there like a stone within her. "Lie on the bed, girl. I'll give you what you want," Sandor commanded, his voice sending shivers up her spine, and his large hands lifting her off his manhood by her hips. Sansa quickly laid on her back across the featherbed, the soft furs warmly caressing her naked body. 

"So eager for my cock, are you? You'll get it soon enough, believe that," Sandor rasped, settling his massive body between her calves, his eyes leaving a trail of heat on her skin as he took in her form, and his voice gathering wetness at her woman's place with the promise of his words. "Spread your legs," Sandor rumbled, and Sansa let her knees fall open, completely baring herself to him. "Open your folds," Sandor rasped, his tongue wetting his lips and his eyes boring intensely upon her woman's place. Sansa delicately placed her fingers upon herself and lightly pulled back her flesh, opening her entrance to him, as he took her with his gaze. A low growl rumbled in his chest when he moved a long finger through her wetness, and pushed into her, his hand grazing her fingers as she held herself exposed. "Your sweet cunt is so wet for me," Sandor rasped, pumping into her, and rubbing against her inner wall with the pad of his finger. Sansa's head tipped back, and her eyes closed, a soft moan floating off her lips. The sudden withdraw of his finger caused her eyes to snap back open, and her face to turn back to him when her pleasure denied to her once more. "Such a wanton little bird," Sandor rasped, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Take your ankles. Hold your legs apart," Sandor commanded, watching her long legs lift into the air before him, and spreading open, with her hands wrapped lightly around her ankles. Sandor's chest rapidly rose and fell as he ran his hand along her inner thigh and down to her woman's place. When he lightly grazed his thumb over her tender folds, Sansa couldn't hold back the gasp that fell from her lips. "Do you want my cock, girl?" Sandor rasped, swiping his thumb over her folds once more. "Polite ladies answer a question when it's asked of them. Do you want my cock?" Sandor rasped, stilling his thumb.

"Y-yes," Sansa breathily answered, her need throbbing painfully between her legs, yearning to be touched.

"When you have wants of another, you say 'please,' girl," Sandor rasped, his fingers digging into the softness of her thigh.

"Yes, p-please," Sansa pleaded, her want overpowering her, and her eyes begging for Sandor to take her.

"Much better. Take my cock in hand. Leave your legs up," Sandor commanded, removing his hand from her thigh, and moving his body closer to rest his length upon her. Sansa released the delicate bones of her ankle and brought her hand between their bodies, gripping his thick manhood within her dainty hand. 

"Rub it on your cunt," Sandor rumbled, causing her strained legs to tremble when she began teasing herself with him, his tip slightly breeching her entrance. She clenched her lips tightly and moaned deep in her throat. 

"Put my cock in your wet cunt," Sandor rasped, panting slightly, and pushing forward, allowing her to guide him. Sansa's legs shook above her as she slowly filled herself with his girth, her breath coming in short bursts, and his voice running through their joined bodies, and coiling within her.

"Put your hand back on your ankle. Keep your legs spread for me," Sandor rasped, leaning over her and placing his palms on the bed beside her ears, propping his towering form above her. When he thrust deep inside of her, Sansa moaned wantonly, her eyelids fluttering closed, and her nails digging harshly into her skin. "Look at me while I take you," Sandor commanded above her, and she forced her eyes open once more. His eyes pinned her to the featherbed, more so than his body, as he began rocking roughly into her. "You like that, girl? You like the Hound's hard cock in your pretty pink cunt?" Sandor rasped, snapping his hips hard into her, his ferocity making her breath catch in her throat. 

"Y-yes," Sansa said, her heart feeling like it may beat out of her chest, her pleasure mounting once more.

"You like being fucked by the Hound, like you're a bitch in heat? You like being the Hound's bitch?" Sandor rumbled, his hard thrusts causing her head to bounce on the bed, and her breasts to jiggle painfully. 

"Y-yes," Sansa said through gritted teeth, his rough voice licking upon her skin, her pleasure threatening to release. 

"Sing for me, little bird. Sing the song you writ for my cock alone," Sandor rasped, and Sansa's pleasure overtook her. Her legs shook in her hands, and her toes curled, as Sandor rode her hard, his voice penetrating her skin, and breaking her pleasure in waves upon his manhood, while her voice cried out her release. 

The part of her husband known as the Hound was long dead, but that never stopped Sansa from bringing him back to life when she had a want of him in her bed.


	17. Chapter 17

"So you didn't always love your husband?" Joryn asked her good mother as they took their midday meal together. 

"Oh heavens no, he terrified me when I met him first!" Sansa said, laughing, with her delicate fingers resting above her heart. "But I didn't know him at the time, and he was quite a different man then," Sansa said, smiling at Joryn. "I came to know him, little by little, as I came to love him, little by little. Sandor has always been a ferocious fighter, everyone in Westeros knows that. The first time I saw him fight, he did so, not for himself, but for another, and saved that man's life. However, his ferocity was frightening to behold, and it scared me, he had so much anger trapped inside of him," Sansa said, the sadness of the memory tugging down the corners of her mouth.

"Was it the false king? The one he saved, I mean," Joryn asked, turning towards her good mother. 

"No, it was Ser Loras Tyrell, The Knight of Flowers. He was riding in a tourney thrown for my father, to celebrate his appointment as Hand of the King. Ser Loras relied on trickery that day, and it would have cost him his life, had Sandor not been there. Ser Loras rode against a man, whose name I shall not speak, but you can figure him out easily enough. He and Sandor shared a father and a mother, but that horrible monster was never his brother, not truly," Sansa said, her eyebrows knit together in disgust at the thought of him. "Ser Loras rode a mare in heat against him and his beast of a horse. When his mount caught wind of the mare, he became unruly, allowing Ser Loras to unhorse the rider. The rider realized the trick, and slayed his mount, right there in front of King Robert, and all the noblemen and peasants, alike, before turning his sword on Ser Loras," Sansa said, as Joryn sat wide eyed beside her.

"What a foul trick!" Joryn exclaimed, shaking her head.

"He was a fool, and he knew he didn't possess the skill to win, yet entered all the same. Sandor didn't need trickery when he shot out of the King's box and right into the fray. Sandor had the skill and held the rider away from Ser Loras, until King Robert ended it, and Ser Loras declared Sandor the champion. The champion's purse from that tourney rebuilt this," Sansa said, raising her eyes and palms, indicating the room around them. 

"Lord Sandor rebuilt Winterfell?" Joryn asked, staring at Sansa in astonishment, fully engrossed in the tale. 

"He did. He also found a stonemason to finish my father's likeness in the crypts, and laid his bones to rest there," Sansa said, smiling as she wiped a tear from her cheek. "Sandor is the Lord of Winterfell, in truth, whether he styles himself that way or not. He is in every stone now, and will be for as long as it stands. If I could tell my father all that Sandor has done for me, why, he would never believe it," her voice wistful at the thought. 

"Why would he not believe you?" Joryn asked, her head perched in her hands, with her elbows on the table. Sansa laughed at her boldness, and the idea of her father learning of Sandor.

"Well, Sandor was... He was quite unlikable, back then. For so long everyone expected him to be a monster, that he tried his best to be one, lashing out at others and pushing them away. He became feared, the fearsome Hound, intertwining the two so tightly within himself," Sansa said, giving Joryn a small smile.

"Because of his scars? That's why everyone feared him? But everyone says the Hound is dead, yet his scars remain," Joryn asked, her words tumbling out in quick succession, causing Sansa to laugh at her eagerness. 

"The Hound will never be dead, not truly. That is a part of him, as much as the heart in his chest, or the scars on his face. I have even come to love that part of him, over time. The angry, hateful part of the Hound is gone, but the intensity and frankness, the ferocity and boldness, still remains. And it is weaved together with the love and loyalty, the valiancy and tenderness, of Sandor, the man," Sansa said, softly smiling at Joryn. "You will see with Ned. There will be things about him, that over time, you will find that you may not like. The trick is to turn it into something that you love. Say, he stays up late into the night reading and it keeps you from sleep. Bid him read you to sleep instead, and soon you may find it doesn't bother you nearly as much, in fact you may even find yourself looking forward to the time together," Sansa said, patting Joryn's arm.

"Is that what you did with the Hound part of Lord Sandor?" Joryn asked, thinking on her good mother's words. 

"Yes, I did. And now I find the Hound to be most pleasant company," Sansa said, as pink tinged her cheeks, and she raised her goblet to her lips.


	18. Chapter 18

Sandor roused with the dawn, and pulled his sleeping wife close to him. Her eyelids fluttered, before a sound sleep took her once more. Sandor stroked the back of her delicate hand where it lay atop the furs, before bringing it to his lips, placing the slightest of kisses upon her fingers, and gently returning it once more. 

"Good morning, Little Bird." Sandor quietly rasped in her ear, and placed a tender kiss upon her temple, before cautiously climbing out of their bed, lest he pull her from her rest. His leg always pained him most in the mornings, when the muscles were settled and stiff. If Sansa happened to be awake when he hobbled about in the early morning, she would place her hands upon the marred flesh of his thigh, and work the muscle, until his pain was gone. More times than not, her ministrations would lead elsewhere, so Sandor couldn't exactly be sure if it was the rubbing that made it feel better, or the activities that followed. He gripped the large arm chair that sat in their chamber and began the stretches that the Elder Brother had taught him. His eyes wondered back to his sleeping wife's form, and the sight of her brought a small smile to his lips. Sandor always thought she was most beautiful early in the morning, when she was peaceful, before the untold events of the day took their toll. After he had finished his stretches and dressed, his pangs of hunger sent him to the kitchens, but when he arrived the cooks and kitchen maids were scurrying about, and denied him entrance. 

"Beg pardons, Mi'lord, but the kitchen's been closed off today." The cook mumbled, stepping into the corridor and halting his path, slamming the door closed behind him.

"Closed off? And why would it be closed off?" Sandor rasped, his irritation evident. 

"R-rats, Mi'lord, yes, large rats, as big as cats, Mi'lord!" The cook said, his eyes darting around the corridor. "And terrible too, biting at our legs as we work, Mi'lord!"

"I'll fetch the dogs from the kennel, they'll suss them out quick enough." Sandor told the cook, not unkindly.

"Aye, Mi'lord, but, but I've already spoken with the kennelmaster, Mi'lord! Yes, he's bringing the dogs by, Mi'lord!" The cook said, as Sandor eyed him warily. "Here's, here's some bread Mi'lord, I'll send some eggs and meat up with Mi'lady's." The cook said, shoving a hard heel of bread into Sandor's hand, and pushing open the kitchen door behind him, before scurrying inside and slamming it shut. Sandor stood with with the bread in his hand as he stared at the door in front of him. As he was turning to leave, he heard scraping upon the stone floor of the other side, as if someone was pulling something heavy to block the door. 

"Large rats, indeed." Sandor muttered, ripping off a bite of the tough bread, and heading to see the kennelmaster.

 

* * *

 

"The kitchen's full of rats, Mi'lord?" The kennelmaster questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Yes, the kitchen's full of rats, Mi'lord! The little buggers are e'rywhere, Mi'lord! The cook's been smooshin' 'em under his heel, e'ry step he takes!" The kennelmaster suddenly rushed out, his eyes wide. 

"The cook told me they were big as cats and bit his legs, now you say they're small enough to be smashed beneath his boot?" Sandor rasped, as his ire knit at his brow.

"Beg pardons, Mi'lord! 'Tis my mistake! Yes, yes, I remember now, he did say that, big as cats, yes, Mi'lord." The kennelmaster rushed with a pained expression, as Sandor's gaze pushed down upon him. 

"Well?" Sandor barked.

"Well, what, Mi'lord?" The kennelmaster squeaked, as Sandor's gaze caused his brow to perspire.

"Bloody hell! Are you going to take the damned dogs to the blasted kitchens?" Sandor bellowed, causing the kennelmaster's face to go pale.

"Aye, Mi'lord, it's only that they, they haven't had their run yet this morning, Mi'lord! If I take them there now, Mi'lord, they'll just cause a great mess!" The kennelmaster rushed forth. 

"Why are you not running them now, then?" Sandor said, through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Mi'lord, I been waiting for the stablehand to bring me mount 'round, Mi'lord!" The kennelmaster rushed, gulping down air.

"I'll go ready my mount, and take them out for their run." Sandor rasped, not unkindly.

"No, Mi'lord, no need! He'll be 'round 'fore you get back. No needs trouble yourself!" The kennelmaster said confidently.

"Aye. See that it's handled then." Sandor rasped, eyeing the small kennelmaster, before turning on his heel.

"Yes, Mi'lord, I'll see it done!" The kennelmaster's words floated by him, as he strode off to the stables.

"Aye, small rats, too." Sandor muttered to himself.

 

* * *

 

"Why haven't you readied the kennelmaster's horse, boy?" Sandor bellowed at the lad in front of him. 

"The kennelmaster's horse, Mi'lord? He always-" the boy started, before snapping his jaw shut. "Yes, his horse, he, he, threw a shoe, Mi'lord!" The boy yipped out, before biting his lip.

"Have you put it back on, then?" Sandor asked, watching the boy clamp on his trembling lip.

"Beg pardons, Mi'lord, but I don't know how. I'm jus' the apprentice, Mi'lord, my master's abed, taken ill." The boy said, through a pained smile.

"Aye, give it here, lad. I'll show you how." Sandor said, patting the boy upon the shoulder.

"M-many thanks, Mi'lord, but, but, I gave it to, to the smith for repairs! It was bent somethin' awful, Mi'lord!" The lad rushed out.

"Aye. I'll just go fetch it then, so I can place it." Sandor rasped, his eyes narrowing at the boy. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you, boy?" Sandor rasped, leaning down to eye level with the boy. 

"No, Mi'lord! Never, Mi'lord!" The boy cried, trembling.

"Alright now, there's a good lad." Sandor said, patting the boy's shoulder once more, before turning on his heel towards the smithy. 

 

* * *

 

"You mean to tell me, that you don't have the shoe for the kennelmaster's horse?" Sandor rasped, his wroth coming to a head.

"I, I have it, Mi'lord, aye! It's just, m-my back, Mi'lord. It's been painin' me somethin' awful, Mi'lord! Not to worry, my 'prentice will be round, soon enough, Mi'lord!" The smith said, looking pleased with himself. 

"Aye. Give me the hammer, I can give it a few swings." Sandor rasped, not ungently, his mind recalling the pains of his thigh each morning. 

"Many thanks, Mi'lord, many thanks. But you needn't trouble yourself, here comes the lad now!" The smith said, pointing to a boy making haste across the yard, with the maester in tow. 

"My Lord!" The maester wheezed, clutching at his chest, over his robes. "Lady Sansa has bid me ask you to hear the people today!" The maester huffed, as though he had run all the way from Wintertown.

"Is she well?" Sandor rasped, his eyes wide. The only time Sandor had sat in her stead was when she had taken ill, or was in the childbed. 

"The Lady is well, My Lord. No cause for concern. She just has pressing matters concerning the, the stores, that require her attention." The maester said, his breath coming easier.

"What's amiss with the stores?" Sandor said, eyeing the maester. 

"No issue, just some bookkeeping, and some numbers. Droll stuff, really." The maester said, shaking his head. 

Sandor's head began to ache, and his stomach rumbled, as he followed the maester to the hall. Once seated at the high table, he beckoned forth the first to be seen. As the day wore on, and countless others were seen, Sandor's head began throbbing, in truth. He called for a short break and shoved the bread upon the table into his mouth, wishing it were the meat and eggs he had missed that morning. Once he had seen to all of the smallfolk, and the sun was lowering in the sky, he made his way to his chamber, hoping for a quick rest. Instead, he ran right into the She-Bear, and she latched on to his arm, and bid him walk with her through the glass gardens. As they made their way around the gardens for the sixth time, Sandor's guts began rumbling loudly, causing the She-Bear to laugh in response. She steered him towards the Great Hall, peering about them, as they made their way. When they arrived, a guard without the hall, led them within. All about them were the people of Winterfell, and trestles filled with dishes, lined the hall, while in the middle sat an enormous cake. As he and the She-Bear made their way to the high table, the people bowed and murmured 'Blessed name day, Mi'lord.' When Sandor was finally by his wife's side, he could hold his tongue no longer. 

"What, in Seven Hells, is all of this, Little Bird?" Sandor rasped, as she looked at him like the cat that got into the cream.

"Why, Sandor, it's your name day celebration!" Sansa said, laughing. "Wait, don't sit yet. We need to go back to the yard." She said, her hand firmly at his elbow. 

Sandor shot her a questioning look, as all around them, the people filed out of the hall, while Sansa took his arm and led them without. Walking into the yard, the crowd broke open, making a path to a stone statue before them. As they approached, he realized it was in their likeness. He stood tall in stone, with one arm wrapped around the little bird's waist, cradling her to his side, with her hand upon his chest, and in his other, was his large greatsword drawn protectively across the front of their bodies. When he looked to the face, to see the twisted stone there, he was surprised to find that the stonemason had tilted his head to lean on Sansa's crown, leaving his scars only slightly visible upon the corner of his mouth, and the side of his forehead.

"Little Bird?" Sandor peered down at his wife, as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"It's for our crypt, Sandor. Terribly morose, I know, but I wanted to have it done now, so I could be sure of the likeness." Sansa said, beaming at him.

"Our crypt?" Sandor rasped, his mind working to understand.

"Yes, our crypt, below Winterfell." Sansa stated solemnly, searching his face. 

"Little Bird, that's for the Starks of Winterfell, not dogs of the Westerlands." Sandor rasped, shaking his head. 

"Yes, it's for the Starks, but it's also for the Lords of Winterfell. That's what we are, what we make, together." Sansa said, softly, while patting his arm. 

"I'm not the Lord of Winterfell, I'm not even part of the North." Sandor rasped quietly.

"You became the Lord of Winterfell the day we knelt before the heart tree in the Godswood and said our vows as the custom in the North. You became part of the North when you rebuilt Winterfell and planted it's heir inside of me. All of the future heirs to Winterfell will descend from you, you're part of the North, now, and you are the Lord of Winterfell, whether you will it, or no. Look about you, everyone here asked to help me obtain this for you. The master of horse said it was for helping him birth that foal last spring, when he put his coin in. The cook said it was for carrying the casks out of the cellar. The scullery maids said it was for lowering the floating candles so they could change them. They'll tell you, Sandor, everyone here put forth coin. Look." Sansa said, pointing to the stone plaque at the base of the likeness. Leaning down, Sandor began to read, ' _Sandor Clegane, Lord of Winterfell, and his lady wife, Lady Sansa of House Stark. Rescued Lady Sansa from enemies of House Stark, Recaptured Winterfell from enemy forces, Rebuilt Winterfell from his personal coin, Recovered the remains of Lord Eddard of House Stark, Defended Winterfell against attack, Prevented extinction of Stark line, Much beloved.'_

Sandor felt his wife's hand upon his back, rubbing circles there, as he stood. Looking around him, he saw all the faces of Winterfell staring at him expectantly. He willed his throat to work, but the words wouldn't come. Sansa pulled him down to her embrace, and he couldn't hold back the few tears that fell. Refusing to sob like a babe, he straightened and addressed the crowd. 

"Down in the crypts, are all the Kings and Lords of Winter, and beside them are their loyal direwolf companions. Might be, it's only fitting that Lady Sansa have her loyal hound beside her, to follow her into the beyond." Sandor rasped, and as he began to laugh, the people of Winterfell laughed with him.

 


	19. Chapter 19

Ned had never in his life felt more alive than he did now, since being wedded. His steps felt lighter, his smile came with ease, even the sun seemed brighter, as did the songs on the air from the birds of the morning. Throughout his days, he searched for windows of time, that he might go attend his wife. Most often, he would take his midday meal with her in their solar, if one of them was not required elsewhere. She had loosened his tongue since they had first met, and now he could return most of her jests with ease, although often times she still held the upper hand. He treasured their precious few moments of daylight together, and would think back on them, as he attended other matters, her quips bringing his laughter forth hours later, while others looked at him as if he'd gone mad. He had even begun writing her most clever japes down in his new writing book, should a day come that he needed a smile, and she was not around to give him a new one. 

"Gods, you're like the Stranger this way. Surely you mean to bring an end to me with pleasure." Joryn gasped, on her hands and knees in front of him, as her head hung between her arms, and her round cheeks bounced with every thrust.

Ned placed a hand upon the furs and leaned over her back, slowing his pace. "I'm the son of a dog and a wolf, My Lady. This is the way I'm meant to do it." Ned said, as she raised her head. Placing his hand back on her hip, he straightened himself as he resumed his hard thrusts. 

"Yes, you're quite right. And I'll be your bitch whenever you have needs." Joryn said, shooting Ned a mischievous look over her shoulder, before dropping her head once more, as a long moan escaped her lips.

"My Lady," Ned panted, through his exertion, "but you already are." He finished, gripping her hips harder. 

"Remind me to give you a swift slap to the cheek for that later, My Lord." Joryn said, laughing, before it turned into a moan once more. 

"I'll give you a swift slap to the cheek right now!" Ned said, and before his mind had caught up with him, he had landed a firm, swift smack upon Joryn's round, bouncing backside. Her head shot up, and she stared at him over her shoulder, her eyes wide, and her jaw slackened, as he stilled. "I don't know what's come over me, please, forg-" Ned began to plead until she cut him off.

"Do it again." Joryn said, staring him down over her shoulder.

"Jor, I-"

"Do it again." Joryn said, pushing her hips quickly back against him, giving herself a thrust of him.

Ned raised his palm and lightly swatted her cheek, where she was already beginning to smart. 

"No, Gods, do it like the first." Joryn commanded, thrusting herself on him once more. "And start moving." She said, wiggling her hips in anticipation. 

Ned began thrusting once more, gripping her hip in one hand, while periodically slapping her reddened cheek, though not as hard as the first. She bent her arms and rested her head on her forearms, punctuating the sound of Ned's hand with her moans. As his thrusts came harder and faster, she gripped at her own hair and snaked a hand down to rub at herself. Ned gripped her tightly by her waist with both hands, roughly holding her in place as he slightly leaned over her, his hips smacking hard against the abused red flesh of her arse. Ned felt her tightly contracting around his length, before he heard her cries of pleasure, muffled in the furs. She bucked hard against him, her hips tilting erratically, as she rode out her release. He pushed on the small of her back, causing her stomach to go to the furs, and her knees to spread wide on the bed. Ned's thumbs dug into her lower back as he held her to the bed and took his pleasure. She arched her back, rising to meet his powerful thrusts. Within moments he was pulsing inside of her, his heavy cock jerking against her walls, as his seed rushed into her belly. His palms came to rest on the bed at her sides, as his breath came easier, and he withdrew, his seed trickling out of her, and dripping onto the furs. 

"Jor, I'm very-"

"That was a trip through the Seven Heavens, don't ruin it with apologies. Only, next time, perhaps warn me before you start acting like a man from a pleasure house?" Joryn said, looking over her shoulder, her dimple winking at him upon her cheek.


	20. Chapter 20

"Look at your hold, much too loose." Robb said, laughing. "Ned, why haven't you shown your sweet wife how to properly handle a sword?" Robb said, smiling wide. "Surely you've told her the importance of a nice,  _firm_ grip?" He said, quirking one eyebrow, as Ned felt his face flush with heat.

"Oh, he has, My Lord. He takes my training _quite_ serious. He makes me practice every night, and sometimes in the mornings, too." Joryn quipped back at Robb, smiling mischievously. "It's just that, his greatsword is so large, that if I'm to grip it firmly, I must use both hands." She said, feigning innocence, biting her lip to hold back a laugh. Robb threw his head back, as his laughter floated up to the stable rafters, before sobering once more.

"Yes, I've heard his greatsword is most magnificent to behold, but I've never seen it for myself. I'm told he only brings it out on special occasions, isn't that right, Brother?" Robb said, in mock seriousness, as he and Joryn stared at him with round eyes, and lips trembling, as they fought to hold in their laughter. His face burned brightly at their words, as he shook his head at them.

"What am I to do with the two of you?" Ned said, in exasperation, rubbing his hand upon his cheek.

"Lucky for me, Lady Marra has the hands of a giant. I should think her grip will be most firm." Robb said, turning to Joryn. Their laughter broke around them, as though they were two drunken sellswords. 

"Bloody hell, are we training or are we sitting about a whorehouse with pints of ale?" Ned said, his flush fading. He took the practice sword from Joryn's hand and motioned to Robb to hold his up, tapping it against Robb's. 

"Hold it like this." Ned said, keeping his hand tight but his wrist loose. "Keep yourself able to manouver but not be disarmed." Ned said, as he and Robb moved slowly so that Joryn's eyes might follow. "When he goes low, tilt your arm, not lighten your hold, that will only cost you your legs." Ned instructed, as Robb made a slash at his thighs, only to be blocked. "When he goes high, meet him, but don't reach for it. It leaves you unbalanced, and unguarded, besides." Ned said, demonstrating proper form. "If you are overmatched, or evenly matched, your current stance is appropriate. However, if you are undermatched, they will easily have the upper hand, and knock your sword away by force. That's when you must play to your strength. If he is tall, you must go low. If he is large, you must be quick. If he favors the right, you must go to his left. Most importantly, you must always use his advantage as his downfall, because he will rely on that, no matter the cost. Use your surroundings, if you can't beat him on skill alone. Robb is lazy in his movements, to beat him you must be quick and sure handed, he relies too much on the strength of his parry and strike." Ned said, as he and Robb slowly sparred. "Watch him, he is never ready to speed up, you must bring the speed, so that he doesn't have time to react." Ned said, quickening his movement until Robb was backing away from him, his palm held up, and smiling.

"Dear Ned is much too cautious, and thinks too much. You only need to surprise him, and let his mind work at it, while you best him." Robb said, tossing his sword into his other hand, and moving his arm in a hard strike, meeting Ned's sword, as they stood immobile. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Robb's free hand shot out, his fingers dancing at the pit of Ned's arm, before moving up to the crux of his neck. Ned sputtered with laughter and stepped back, dropping his sword.

"You little fuc-" Ned started, not unkindly.

"Ned! There is a lady present!" Robb exclaimed, dropping his sword, and running to Joryn, covering her ears with his hands, removing them as they broke into laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

Once their practice had finished, Robb snuck to the kitchen, to settle his grumbling stomach. Bess, the old kitchen maid, was still up and tittering about, prepping meat for the morrow. 

"Lord Robb!" Bess greeted warmly, embracing him as a son. "How was your practice tonight? Worked up a appetite, I bet!" She said, pushing bread and meat into his hands.

"I did for certain, My Lady!" Robb said, taking a bite.

"You're always hungry for more, I hope your lady knows." Bess laughed, through her crassness.

"I'm sure she'll learn soon enough." Robb laughed, raising an eyebrow, his cheek full of bread.

"It's coming soon, only one more moon. I've already ordered the wine and meat." Bess said, smiling warmly at him.

"Yes, I, I can hardly wait." Robb finished softly, as Bess pat his hand.


	21. Chapter 21

Robb and Marra said their vows before the heart tree on Robb's nameday. The feast was lively, all of the people attending drank and toasted to Robb. When the bedding was called, Robb let the crowd have their fun and strip them both, watching Marra's face for any signs of distress. They pushed Robb into his chambers, and Marra was not long after, amid a yell to 'Go get a new Northman put into your belly.' Robb pulled Marra behind him, and turned the crowd away, closing and barring the door. When he turned to her, she stood shivering in just her smallclothes, her hands pressed over her exposed chest, her ample breasts spilling over her fingers. The sight of her made his breath catch. The green of her eyes sparkled and betrayed only a hint of her nerves. Her hair lay across her shoulders, shining in the firelight, turning from brown to deep red, depending on where he stood. Her skin was smooth, the color of baked bread, and made his mouth water, just the same. Her smallclothes strained to cover her wide hips that swelled out past her small waist, and he knew that in the back the fabric would be tight and riding up her large, round cheeks. The thought made him moan, as his cock jerked in response.

"My Lady, you are the most beautiful creature in Westeros." Robb said, stepping to her and running his hands down her arms. "The most beautiful arms." Robb said, trailing kisses down one to the wrist. "The most beautiful hands." He said, placing kisses on the backs of them, before kissing each finger. "The most beautiful shoulders." He pushed her hair away from them and placed a kiss upon each in turn. "The most beautiful ears." He pushed his fingers through her hair, and placed kisses up her neck to her ear, as her breath came more quickly. He wrapped his arms around her and stroked gently at her back, nuzzling the hair at her crown, his cock pressing into her soft, smooth stomach. Slowly, she responded, and moved her arms around him, to stroke at his broad back, placing her cheek upon his chest. He held her, and thought this might be the happiest memory of his life, as she held him back. Time seemed to stop as they stood, neither one willing to break the spell. 

"She's not loud enough, Mi'lord! Slay the giant harder!" A drunken voice came from the corridor, erupting into laughter, and then floating off with the man.

Marra trembled at the sudden interruption, and closed her eyes tightly. 

"Drunken sod." Robb said, smiling and shaking his head.

He ran a hand up her back to her face, and trailed his knuckles on her cheek. "The most beautiful face." Robb whispered above her, placing his fingers under her chin, tilting her face towards him. She slowly opened her eyes to him, and gave him a shaky smile. 

"I must be truthful, I'm a bit nervous." She whispered, her smile turning.

"And I, as well." He whispered back, running his hands slowly over her back and shoulders.

"You are?" She questioned, her brows knitting together.

"Yes, I am." He said, peering at her sadly.

"No need for worry, I will treat you gently." She said, laughing with him. She placed a small kiss upon his chest, causing a groan to rumble within, and his cock to jerk against her. He stepped back from her, and placed his hands upon her face, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks.

"The most beautiful face." He whispered once more, and placed a featherlight kiss upon her lips. 

Marra put her hands on his shoulders, and kept him near her face as she met his eyes with her own. Slowly, she gave him a light kiss back, but pulled away before it was deepened. She placed her lips upon his again, and kissed him deeper than before, but stopped once again. She continued to test the kisses, lightly and firmly, opened and closed, but pulled back each time between them.

"My Lady, I did not know that you were trained in the art of Meereenese torture techniques." Robb panted, when she pulled back from a hard, open mouthed kiss. She swatted his shoulder, and kissed him with her laughing mouth. Her laughter turned to moans as Robb deepened the kiss, and soon she was pulling him towards the bed.

"Wait, wait." Robb panted, breaking the kiss. "Turn around." He said, as she looked at him uncertainly, turning her back to him. "The most beautiful arse." Robb said triumphantly and stroked the tight fabric at her backside, before squatting and grabbing her hips, placing a kiss in the middle of each round cheek, as it bounced with her laughter. "You tried to hide it from me beneath layers of dress, but I could hear it calling my name each time you stormed away from me. How dare you try to keep me and my true love apart!" He said, as she laughed anew, her cheeks bouncing in his palms as he lovingly caressed her ample backside. 

"Would you like me to wait without?" Marra teased, as Robb stood, patting and grabbing her backside.

"Oh, I suppose you can stay." Robb said, feigning exasperation, and shaking his head, slowly giving her a smile.

"Why, husband, you're too kind, allowing me attend you on our wedding night!" Marra said, laughing and biting her lip, while climbing into the bed.

"Husband. The most beautiful word to ever pass your lips." Robb said, his face growing serious, as his chest rose and fell. He climbed in after her and lay on his side, as she settled on her back beside him. 

"Should I remove my smallclothes now?" Marra asked, her chest heaving, as her teats jiggled distractingly.

"If you would like, I'll not force you to." Robb said, stroking her cheek, and placing small kisses upon her brow. "Today you made me the luckiest fool to ever draw breath." He kissed the tip of her nose, and her eyelids as they fluttered closed, before placing one on her chin and finally on her lips. "I must confess, I lied in my vows." He whispered against her mouth, as she became still as stone beneath him. "I said 'From this day until the end of my days.' But truly, it didn't start today, it started the first time I saw you. I heard it in my mind that day, and every time I saw, or thought of you, afterward. My heart chanted it as I fought your father's men. 'From this day until the end of my days,' it thrummed in my chest." Robb said, running his fingertips across the skin of her cheek, and when Marra met his eye she saw tears gathered at the corners. 

When he finally took her in the early hours of the morning, he moved slowly against her, kissing her, and stroking her face. "Until the end of my days." He whispered in her ear as his seed filled her, mixing with her maiden's blood, and placed a passionate kiss upon her lips.


	22. Chapter 22

A maid brushed through Marra's hair as she sat smiling to herself, the memory of the previous night swirling in her mind. Her body felt tired, yet her heart soared, as she thought on the small amount of sleep they had gotten. Robb was, no doubt, dragging as he attended his duties. Tonight she would have to make sure they rested well before dawn, she thought, as she sighed, contentedly. A sudden yank of her hair caused her to yelp painfully and turn towards the maid.

"Beg pardons, Mi'lady! There was a great snag!" The maid rushed, smiling, yet it didn't reach her eyes. 

"It's okay." Marra said, patting the girl's hand, and giving her a smile. "My hair has always been a bit unruly." She said, laughing, as the girl made no attempt to laugh with her. Marra's laughter died off as she turned in her seat once more, pondering on what she may have done to upset the girl. The maid soon took her leave and left Marra sitting alone in her chambers. When her midday meal arrived, it was brought by a different maid, who sat it down unceremoniously on the table. When she thanked her warmly, the maid huffed her courteous reply with a strained smile, before exiting the chambers. Marra gazed into the bowl of slop that sat upon the table, and picked up a badly burned piece of bread, turning it over in her hand, before tossing it back to the tray. Her stomach grumbled loudly, yet she couldn't bring herself to take a bite of the meal in front of her. She made her way down to the kitchens, getting lost along the way, until she came upon the back entrance. Feeling pleased with herself, she walked towards the sound of voices and laughter floating through the open door. 

"I didn't even give her a spoon, she's eating that mush with her hands as we speak!" The voice of the maid that brought her meal said, as Marra's ears began to burn.

"How could Lord Robb marry her?" Another voice shrieked.

"Don't worry, he'll grow tired of her and he will be back to us." A different voice laughed. "He only needs her for heirs, once he puts one in her, he'll come back to us for fun. Mark my words!" A handful of voices agreed.

"Even if she does give him a babe, I will give him a bastard!" A girl said, laughing heartily. "Those hands, that cock, I dream of them." She said wistfully, before laughing once more. 

"I can't go to the pantry without thinking about our tumble in there!" Another girl shrilled.

Marra could take no more and turned back on the way she came, her ears burning hotly, as her eyes stung. Once she was back in her apartments, she closed the door forcefully, and slammed the bar into place, before crumpling to a heap on the floor, sobbing into her hands. They knew him, they all knew him intimately, she lamented, as her sobs racked her once more. When she finally made to stand, she eyed her meal still sitting on the table and ran to it. Picking up the bowl in both hands, she flung it hard into the hearth, the bowl shattering, and it's contents oozing out among the flames. Feeling exhausted, she laid down in the bed, but the scent of Robb still clung to the sheets, causing her to weep once more, until sleep overtook her. 

Marra awoke to a soft knock upon the door, when the sun was low in the sky. Straightening herself, she walked to the door and unbarred it, opening it slightly. Robb stood on the other side, his smiling face faltering as he looked upon her state.

"Oh, it's you." Marra said, turning to retreat back to the furs, leaving the door ajar. 

"I came to escort you to the hall, my family awaits us." Robb said, stepping into the room.

"Tell them I've taken ill." She said, pulling up the furs and giving him her back. 

Robb shut the door and rushed to the bed, climbing in beside her, and stroking her hair.

"What is the matter? I will go fetch the maester to attend you." Robb said, placing a kiss upon her head, as he stroked down her arm.

"No needs. I'm just not hungry, is all." Marra said, her body stiffening under his touch. 

"I thought of you today. I could barely focus on anything but you. I've been watching the sun, as it moved quite lazily through the sky, just for this moment to get back to you. Did you think on me?" Robb whispered, as he brushed the back of her hand with his thumb. 

"No." Marra lied, pulling her hand from his touch, and settling it tightly against her chest. 

"Not even a little?" Robb said, in a small voice.

"No." She clipped, staring at the chamber wall. 

"Well, I suppose I should have been more memorable. You remember who I am, at least?" Robb tried to jest, and attempted to pull her close.

"Yes." She said, through gritted teeth.

"Marra, this is foolish, please tell me what I've done." Robb said, sadly.

"You should go attend your family. They wait for you." She said, evenly, as she held herself completely still. She could hear him working his mouth as he tried to find words but couldn't.

"I will be back, and we can speak on this. I, I would like to know how I've wronged you, and make it right." Robb whispered sadly, as he rubbed his hand over her hair. 

After he had taken his leave, Marra continued to stare at the stone before her. "I hate you." She whispered, as fresh tears overtook her.


	23. Chapter 23

For a sennight, Robb begged Marra to tell him what had happened between them. She told him all was well, though her tone and actions proved otherwise. Robb had taken to quietly attending his daylight duties, reflecting on what might be causing this rift between them, his easy smile replaced with a knitted brow and a pained expression. It seemed every person in the castle had sought him out at one point, or another, to pull his troubles from him, though he never confided in any of them. On the seventh day, just before dawn, Robb pulled Marra to him as he slept, and rubbed himself against her backside, sliding his hand between her thighs. He fully woke when she moaned in her sleep, and kissed her lightly upon the neck as his hand worked at the front of her woman's place. Her body stilled as she woke, no longer pushing herself upon his need. His hand continued to move as her body shuddered beneath him. 

"Would you like to take your pleasure, My Lord?" Marra asked, quietly.

"What would you like?" Robb asked, his heart hammering in his chest.

"To please you and give you heirs, My Lord." She responded, flatly.

"It would please me to give you pleasure." Robb said, his fingers rubbing at her once more, as he kissed her behind the ear and rubbed himself against her. When she made no attempt at response, he slid his hand into her smallclothes and slid his finger through her dampening folds. "Marra, my Marra, you make me quite the green boy. You're so beautiful, give yourself to me, and I promise that you'll have your pleasure before I take mine." Robb said, placing tender kisses upon her neck, as she moaned in her mouth, her jaw clamped tightly shut. Robb pulled the strings of her smallclothes, and slid them away, trying to turn her on her back. 

"I prefer this way, My Lord." Marra said, meekly, returning to her side and giving him her back.

"However you wish, I will do it." Robb said, freeing himself before raising her shift around her hips, and placing her leg atop his, opening her up to him. Kissing her neck, he rubbed himself at her entrance, before pushing in the tip. When her tight cunt resisted, he moved his hand upon her once more, rubbing tight pressured circles on her, while he slowly thrust with just the tip of himself. Her body soon began to respond, as her folds slickened, and allowed him fully into her. When she moaned inside of herself once more, he quickened his hand upon her, and lightly kissed her neck, moaning into her skin. His thrusts came faster, as he heard her breathing become labored. She gasped as her pleasure came upon her, squeezing tightly on his length. Robb grabbed her hip and pumped into her as his own pleasure overtook him. When he spilled into her, her body began to shake with sobs, as her mouth gave voice to them. Alarmed, Robb quickly pulled out of her, and rolled her on her back, as she covered her face with her hands.

"Marra, have I hurt you?" Robb said, attempting to pull her hands from her face.

"More than you know." She said, her voice pitching erratically. "I apologize, I thought I could, but I couldn't." She said, rolling away from him and scrambling out of the bed. She dressed hastily as Robb climbed out of the bed, his eyes never leaving her form as he slowly dressed.

"Marra, please." Robb begged, his voice shaking, as his eyes began to prickle. She stilled for a moment, before roughly tying her dress and turning on him, her mouth set into a hard line and her eyes seething.

"Tell me, have you had every maid in Winterfell, or just most of them?" Marra hissed, her eyes narrowed, and her lips pulled back, baring her teeth.

"I've been with no one else since-" Robb started, reaching out to her.

"Not now. Before." Marra said, interrupting him. Robb had the decency to look abashed, as her eyes bore into him, and she roughly pushed his hand away. 

"My Lady, I don't know what you've heard but there is no one else. I had my fun before I met you, that's true, but-" Robb tried, in soothing tones.

"What I've heard? Well I've heard quite a bit, actually. Did you know that they're all expecting you to run right back to them once you've grown tired of me? Did you know the more miserable you seem, the kinder they are to me? Did you know your hands and your, your cock, fill their dreams. Oh yes, you've left a most memorable impression. They all titter around, laughing at me behind my back, serving me sow slop, yanking my hair, and saying you'll give them a good time and a bastard, too. You've turned me into your jape. This was a most grievous error on my part. I should have never taken vows with you. I should have let those men..." Marra's lips began to tremble, as a tear rolled down her cheek and splashed upon her chest. 

"Marra, I beg you, please-" Robb pleaded, as he moved to take her into his arms.

"No! Don't! I cannot bear your touch!" Marra screamed, attempting to shove him away with both of her hands, before covering her face, as her shoulders began to shake. 

Robb scooped her up and slung her over his shoulder, as she clawed at his back and kicked her legs, amid her screams. By the time he made it to the kitchens, she hung limply over his form, as her tears trailed on the stone behind them. 

"I have something I need you all to hear!" Robb bellowed to the bewildered faces of the women, as he shook with anger, holding Marra tightly to his shoulder. "As you all know, I wedded this beautiful lady in the Godswood. I begged her to let me take that place of honor in her life. All that you say and do to her, you do to me. It brings me unbearable pain that you would treat her so disrespectfully. You will treat her kindly, and if you cannot, I will find another holdfast that you may work in, and will put together a guard to take you there." Robb said, placing Marra on her feet, amid the maid's gasps. "I'll not tolerate your insolence towards her. I thought I had treated you well, but if I am mistaken, please let me know at once, for that is the only reason I can think that you would lash out so hurtfully. Bess, when I was two-and-ten, I found you being beaten and forced by that merchant from the coast, and I put an end to it. Yet, you stood by and let this happen. Senelle, when I was one-and-ten, I told Bess that it was I, that ruined my mother's dress, not you. Yet, this is how I am repaid." Robb barked, as the women's faces turned downcast, peering at him through their lashes, several of them beginning to weep, as they recalled the kindness he had shown them.

"Mi'lord, we meant no harm, truly. I beg your forgiveness. And yours, Mi'lady. You speak truly, you've always been kind, and we mean no disrespect." A maid nearest them spoke, her voice beginning to quaver, as tears began to roll down her face. The others began to offer up their apologies, as Marra turned her red rimmed eyes to them. Her handmaiden pushed her way forward, bowing in front of her.

"Mi'lady, perhaps we were a bit jealous and it got the best of us. You have nothing to fear from us, our worst is done, besides. We wish you many happy moons, and hope to be of service to you through them all." She said, smiling sadly at Marra, and reaching for her hand. 

"You're her handmaiden, are you not?" Robb asked the girl.

"I am, Mi'lord." She said, bowing to kiss Marra's hand.

"Touch her again and I'll have your hand. You're dismissed from service." Robb seethed, roughly pushing away her outstretched hand.

"Mi'lord! How will I eat? I have noth-" The girl began, tears streaming down her face.

"And you, you bring her meals? You're dismissed as well." Robb barked over the handmaiden's pleas, pointing to a girl in the middle, as she began to wail. 

"Robb, please, leave them be." Marra begged, as fresh tears rolled down her face.

"Marra, you kept this from me. I vowed to protect you, from this day until the end of my days, and they made me break that vow in our own home. If any of them so much as look at you sideways, you'll tell me. Otherwise, when I find out, I'll have all their heads on pikes." Robb spat, turning on his heel, leaving Marra and the maids sobbing in his wake.


	24. Chapter 24

"Back up you, you've all done quite enough. Give her room." Bess said, shooing the girls away from Marra, where she stood with her back to them. "I'll fetch a guard to take you back to your chambers, Mi'lady." Bess whispered to Marra's back. Marra gave her a slight nod of assent, but never turned to face them, as Bess fetched the guard. Her face burned hot with embarrassment and tears. 

"Mi'lady, I, I was a horrible wretch. We deserve your wrath. I beg your forgiveness." A girl said to her back, as she nodded. 

"And I too, Mi'lady. We took it too far. Please, tell us how to make it right." Another voice said, through tears.

"Mi'lady, I'm-" Another girl started, before breaking off into sobs, as the guard arrived. 

 

* * *

 

Once Marra was back in her chamber, she threw herself upon the bed, but tears wouldn't come. She replayed the events in her mind, the maid's faces, Robb's words, trying to make sense of it all, until sleep overtook her.

"My Lady." A whisper came at her ear, drawing her from sleep, as a hand rubbed soothingly at her back. Blinking from sleep, Robb's sad eyes swirled in front of her, in the dim light of the sun's fingers trailing through the window, as it lowered in the sky. Slowly, she made to sit up, her mind ungently racing to remind her of the day.

"I, I am, I beg you, please, find it in your heart to forgive me, even just the smallest bit. I am a fool, I should have never-" Robb pleaded, as tears overtook him and he turned his face away from her, from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "I wish, I wish I could change the past, and come to you untouched, to spare you the pain of being wedded to me. And the pain that you've endured because of it." Robb said, his voice choking to get the words out, his eyes staring up at the rafters. "I should have never taken you down there, and then left you. Damn me." Robb said, a look of disgust shadowing his face, as he turned his head to seek out her eyes. Marra's eyes searched his face, and swept over his body. He was covered in dirt, and his knuckles were raw and scabbed over. There was a thin cut above his eyebrow, and a small bruise bloomed upon his cheek. "Please, speak. Tell me to go to the Seven Hells, tell me to bugger off, anything, please." Robb begged, a tear sliding down his face. Marra lightly grazed her fingertips across his knuckles, as he drew a sharp intake of breath.

"What did you do?" Marra whispered, looking to his face.

"I had thought to make you a widow, but I couldn't even do that right." Robb laughed sadly, shaking his head, as his eyes filled once more. 

"Why?" Marra said, her mouth frowning, as if her word came without her assent.

"Then you would be free to marry someone worthy of you, not a fool like me." Robb said quietly, hanging his head, and looking at the stones beneath him.

"No, why did you marry me?" Marra asked, her mind catching up to her errant mouth. Robb's head shot up and turned to her, before averting his eyes to his hands.

"I, you, you're so confident and frank. When you speak, you don't dress it up, you bare it, and are willing to face it. You make me feel like a boy again, struggling to say the right thing. I wanted to spend my life looking for the right word for you, and trying to laugh at the right time." Robb said, sadly, watching his hands as he flexed and unflexed them. "You make me better. I had hoped that you might come to find that I do the same for you. But I just make your life worse." He whispered, stilling his hands, as a tear splashed upon them.

"Could you not have had that with another?" Marra asked, peering at his face.

"Everything I've told you is the truth. Those girls, I was four-and-ten, when I started going down there for that. But before that, when I was around my ninth nameday, I began going down there daily. I would sit in the kitchens and they would give me food. I was always hungry, I grew tall very quickly and it seemed my stomach was always rumbling. They would tell me stories and their troubles, and I would try to help them if I could. I came to care for them, yes, but what little affection I built for them over the years pales in comparison to what I feel for you. The first time you looked at me, it felt as though you saw right through me, beneath my skin, to my core, and knew all of the moments that made me, and I yearned to tell them to you, besides. I wish I would have never set foot in that blasted kitchen, not today, not ever." Robb finished softly, his voice quavering with regret. "And I haven't touched any of them since the day we met, I never even had the want. With my hand, I could picture your face, your eyes, even hear you saying 'I hate you,' as you stormed off, and I would whisper 'I love you,' whilst spilling on myself, in the darkness of my chamber." Robb said, with a small laugh, as his eyes stared off at the memory.

"You did not!" Marra gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth to hide a small smile.

"Oh, I most certainly did! Quite a few times!" Robb said, glancing at her, with a laugh.

"How many is quite a few?" She asked, through her fingers, with her eyes wide.

"Only a couple hundred, give or take." Robb said, laughing, as Marra hit him with a pillow. "I'm sorry, My Lady, I told you it called to me!" Robb said, cowering as she hit him again, before grabbing the pillow, and holding her eye. "The day we wed, and you stood before me in just your tight smallclothes, I thought I might spill myself at your feet, or lose my stomach upon them, perhaps even both at once." Robb said, smiling with a short laugh. "Instead, I spilled out my heart and then pissed on it." He whispered, as his face fell. 

"Robb." Marra said, placing her hand atop his, as he searched her face. "I forgive you." For a moment, the only movement he made was the jumping of his throat as he swallowed, but then he was upon her, pushing her back onto the bed, as he embraced her tightly.

"I need you to tell me what to do. I'm lost without you. I just want to make it better for you." Robb said, as his tears rubbed in between their cheeks. "I will dismiss them all, if that's what you want. Or I will secure one of the abandoned holdfasts, and we can become a vassal of Winterfell. Whichever you prefer. If you want their heads atop the walls, I'll do it now. Anything you desire." Robb said, nuzzling her ear with his nose.

"I don't wish to speak on them any more today. We've wasted too much of our life together on them. When I decide, I'll tell you." Marra said firmly, wrapping her arms about his neck. "Now, I do have one thing that has been needling my mind." She said, smiling at Robb, as he lifted himself on his arm to peer at her. "What exactly was I doing all these times that you envisioned me in your chamber?" She said, quirking an eyebrow at him, before he fell back to the bed and groaned in the pillow, as she laughed beneath him.


	25. Chapter 25

Marra woke with her husband's limbs wrapped tightly about her, as though he feared she might flee in the night. He clung to her every night since the mess in the kitchen, two fortnights past. He had taken her to Wintertown upon her request, and let her bring back two orphans to attend her, while he made preparations to secure an abandoned holdfast. It wouldn't be habitable for many moons, but he worked tirelessly at the plans, and the thought of it allowed her to rest easier. The women had, for the most part, stopped begging her forgiveness, and had taken to avoiding her gaze, keeping their eyes averted to the stone, and their heads bowed. She could tell that Robb regretted his actions of that day, but he never apologized to any of them, out of respect for her.

The heat from his body stuck to her uncomfortably, as they laid under the furs, without any cloth between them. She stroked down his muscled arm with her fingertips, causing him to hum in his sleep. Smiling, she did it again, and he flexed his arms around her, taking her breath. She moved her hand to his thigh, to push it from her, but he was too quick, even in sleep, and placed his hand on top of hers, intertwining their fingers. She laughed quietly at her state, in the dimness of the morning sun, shaking her head, as she was held his prisoner. He moaned in her ear, and whispered her name. Before she could respond, he spoke again, asking her not to go. She giggled, and made to respond that she couldn't, even if she wanted to do so, but he spoke again, pleading that he had eggs. She couldn't contain her laughter, as it bounced loudly off the stone, and shook her body against him. He drew a sharp intake of breath as he woke to her trembling with laughter in his arm, and stroked his thumb across the back of her hand, where he still pinned it on his thigh. 

"I would wake to your laughter every new day." He said huskily in her ear, as he stroked up her hand to the bend of her arm, and back again. He placed light kisses on her neck, up to her ear, as her skin prickled at the ghost of his breath. When he began kissing the skin of her shoulder, he slid his large hand up her hip and across her stomach, kneading it, before settling his hand flush under the swell of her breast. She stretched and reclined in his embrace, luxuriating in the moment, as he showered her with his love. When she arched her back and moved herself against him in small motions, he stilled and placed his forehead upon her shoulder, groaning from deep in his chest. After a moment, he raised his head once more, and lightly bit her shoulder. She moved harder against him, and his breath came quicker, rushing out of him. His hand slid from where it was nestled under her breast, up her collarbone to cradle her neck, caressing the skin of her throat with his thumb, as his mouth kissed and licked at her. His large form engulfed her, and she thought he might devour her, as his mouth moved over every inch of skin he could reach. She felt her folds slicken, as he continued to break his fast on her, kissing at her like a starved man, and running his hand down to her breasts, to squeeze them gently, before returning to her neck. He nipped at her ear, and grazed his teeth across the tender skin at the nape of her neck, as her body prickled once more. She could hear him whispering against her skin, as he kissed his way back to her shoulder, while his fingers lightly danced on her collarbone, and his palm rested over her heart. She rubbed her thighs together and felt the wetness of her need dripping out of her and mixing with the dried seed from the night prior. She grew brazen, and writhed herself wantonly against him, humming in her chest.

"You're about to make me spill up your back, you minx." Robb said, not unkindly, as he pulled her to lie under him, chest to chest. His manhood pressed up her thigh to her hip, as he straddled her leg, and pressed tender kisses to her lips. He wove his fingers through her hair, and tilted her head, as he kissed under her chin, and licked a moan from her throat. Moving his hands to cradle her head, he rubbed his cheek gently against hers, his morning stubble scraping against her smooth skin. She wrapped her arms around his back, and clasped her hands together to keep them there. He brought his forehead to rest against hers, as he massaged her scalp with his fingertips. After a moment, his hands stilled, as he held his forehead to hers, eyes tightly shut as though he was in prayer. She began to fidget under his stillness, and rolled her hip up his length. He smiled, and bit his lip, before opening his eyes a few moments later, and moving his head from hers. He kissed her lightly, and then deeply, his thumbs swiping across her face. Her woman's place ached for touch, as he relentlessly worked her mouth. Snaking her free leg around his thigh, she arched into him, rubbing her folds on him, and dampening his skin. She moaned at the contact, her heel digging into him, as she used him for leverage, and writhed against him once more. Suddenly, his hand pinned her hip to the bed, halting her pleasure. She felt she may weep at the loss of contact, and moved her hand to pry at his. 

"Marra, you, you're, now I'm about to spill up your belly, my delicious wife." Robb panted, with a sheepish grin. "Tell me what you want, but you might be quick about it. I'll not last long under your hands and between your thighs." He laughed, swallowing hard, before licking his lips.

"T-touch me." Marra whispered, attempting to arch into him once more. Robb rolled to his side, his cock leaving a puddle upon the skin of her hip where his need had begun to seep out of him. He ran his hand down her belly, across her hip, and down the top of her thigh, before sliding up the inside of her leg. He moaned in his chest when he ran his hand over her, and felt her slickness coating her curls and folds. He looked at her face, as his fingers stroked around her entrance, sliding easily across her skin. She had her head back, and her eyes closed, almost as if she were sleeping. When he pushed his finger into her, she bit down on her lip and moaned, and Robb thought he may finish at that very moment, before he'd even begun. Slipping his finger from her, he moved to her hardness, nestled in her curls, and stroked across her flesh, gradually using more pressure. The muscles in her legs flexed and relaxed, and her toes furled and unfurled, as her chest heaved with her moans. Robb watched as her brow knit together and her mouth fell open. He sped up his pace, and pulled a nipple into his mouth, trying to keep his hand and tongue in time. She became restless, throwing a foot on his leg, and digging her heel into him, as she arched into his hand. Suddenly, her legs stiffened, and her toes curled, as her hips bucked, and several high pitched moans bounced loudly around the room. His strokes became lighter, and he dipped a finger inside of her, as her walls faintly clenched at him. Groaning, he laid his head upon her heaving chest and could hear her heart beating madly. Pulling his hand from her, he brought it to rest on her thigh. Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and she threaded her fingers through his hair. When he lifted his head to look at her, he felt his stomach churn. Her eyes sparkled, and her hair was mussed, sticking out around her, her lips were red and upturned into a lazy smile. She was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. He must have stared for a moment too long, as her face turned to a frown, and her lips began to move, saying something he couldn't quite hear over the pounding in his ears.

"Who am I?" Robb asked suddenly, his senses returning.

"Robb? Lord and son to-" She started, eyeing him uncertainly.

"No, no, I mean, to you. Who am I to you?" Robb rushed.

"My husband?" Marra tried, looking worried.

"Yes, Gods, yes. Say it again, I need to be certain this isn't a dream." Robb said, touching her face.

"You're my husband." Marra said, laughing, as lightness took over her.

"Yes, yes I am. The luckiest sod in all of Westeros." Robb said, quickly moving atop her, and capturing her lips with his own. He kissed her sweetly, as his hands danced over body, caressing every part he could touch. When he entered her, he whispered against the skin of her neck, as she wrapped her limbs around him, in a lover's embrace. True to his word, he spilled minutes later, deep inside of her, as though he had thought to meld them together.

 

* * *

 

They broke their fast in the hall with his family. His sweet sisters all came to him and hugged him tightly, before taking their seats. Little Jonnel had tried desperately to stay in his lap, but their mother had refused her, and made her take a seat, which she did with a pout upon her face. Marra talked in friendly tones with Joryn, and it made Robb's heart soar that she might have at least one confidant in Winterfell. It was all the better that Joryn was an easy sort, and could protect them if the need arose. He lifted Marra's hand from the table and brought it to his lips, placing featherlight kisses upon the back of it, and down her fingers, before turning it and placing his lips upon her wrist. Marra never so much as glanced at him, continuing to speak about a trip she had taken, but Joryn's eyes darted between them as she fought to listen to her good sister's words. Sensing her distraction, Marra looked at Robb, and shook her head as she pulled her hand from his grasp. Turning back to Joryn mid-sentence, she loosed a deep gasp, as her eyes became round, staring over Joryn's shoulder, before looking at the table in front of her in disbelief. Robb, placed a hand upon her arm and searched her face, before sweeping his gaze over the hall. 

"Oh my, what in heavens?" He heard his mother gasp a few seats away.

"Lice in the kitchens?" Ned said, shrugging and raising his palm to the sky. Robb had never loved his older brother more than he did in that moment. Serving maids carefully made their way around the hall, depositing plates of meat and eggs before them, their heads all shorn. Robb could see his father's eyes narrow, as his mind worked, yet, much to Robb's relief, he said nothing. Marra ate in silence, as Joryn made attempts to draw her back into conversation, eventually losing hope, and turning to Ned.

"Robb, I feel unwell. Might you escort me back to our quarters?" Marra said softly, as she placed her fork upon her plate. 

He stood and pulled her gently from her seat, and as they exited the hall, he could feel his father's eyes burning upon his back.

 


	26. Chapter 26

Marra had barely laid upon their bed until her stomach overtook her, and she rushed to loose it in the chamber pot. Robb knelt beside her, rubbing back, and pushing her hair from her face. Any time it seemed that she had settled, a new wave coursed through her, and left her heaving. She retched until there was nothing left to expel, and her tears were the only thing dropping into the pot. 

"Let me fetch the maester." Robb said soothingly, as he stroked her back.

"I don't need the bloody maester, I-" She scathed, as another wave overpowered her, causing her to gag over the pot, sobbing in between.

Robb glanced over his shoulder when a firm knock sounded upon the chamber door. He looked back to Marra's face, as she tried to breathe in a steady rhythm.

"Answer the doo-" Marra attempted, as she was struck again, her sounds bouncing off the stone, yet no sickness coming forth. 

Robb swallowed and eyed her uncertainly, reluctant to leave her side. He didn't move until she shot him a stern look out of the side of her eye, amid the sound of a second knock. Robb stood and backed slowly towards the door, keeping his eyes upon her, lest he need to rush back. When he turned to face the door, he looked quickly over his shoulder to her form, before opening it slightly.

"You!" He bellowed at the two maids without. He had expected to see his father, or the orphan girl Marra had taken to, not the two wretches before him. 

"We brought something for Mi'lady." One of them said, cowering from Robb, and indicating the chest they held between them. 

"What have you done to her?" Robb growled, advancing on them, as they screeched and dropped the chest, running off down the corridor. 

Robb rushed to Marra, his heart hammering in his ears, and his legs working much too slow, as though he was running in a dream. He scooped her off her knees as fear rooted itself deep within him.

"You're going to the maester. Loose on me if it overtakes you, but we're going now." Robb said, his words stumbling out, and his eyes wide. Thankfully, she didn't protest, and wrapped her arms about his neck, resting her head on him as her body trembled. He bounded to the door, his long legs easily clearing the chest that sat untouched, as he held her tightly to him. He could feel her body clenching under his hands, her stomach seizing her. Winterfell had never felt so large, as it did now, with his mind racing and his feet fighting to keep up. When he reached the maester's chamber, he didn't even bother to knock, nor announce himself, instead he flung open the door with his shoulder, and rushed within.

"Maester Doyen!" Robb bellowed, his eyes frantically sweeping the chamber. "Maester Doyen!" He screamed with more urgency, as he moved to the solar door. 

"Yes, yes, My Lord, I am here." The maester said, opening the solar door, and peering up at Robb. 

"My wife, I believe she has been poisoned!" Robb rushed, as the maester's face grew serious, and he motioned the put her upon the cot.


	27. Chapter 27

Robb sat on a stool at the side of the maester's cot and watched Marra sleep, as he stroked her hand. He thought she looked much too pale, with dark circles under her eyes, and her lips a faded pink. The maester had given her herbs and dreamwine, so she might rest, but Robb feared that if he looked away, she may wake in pain and he wouldn't know. 

"Marra, I'm so sorry." Robb whispered, though she couldn't hear him. "All I've done since we've wed is apologize." He laughed, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand. "I've ruined everything. I need your guidance, I'm, I don't know what I'm supposed to do." Robb said softly, as he looked to the door as the maester entered. 

"Has she stirred at all?" Maester Doyen said, walking to the cot and feeling at her wrist.

"No, she's been just like this since you took your leave." Robb responded, watching the maester's hands move from her wrist and across her belly, poking and prodding her with his fingers, making humming noises along the way. He picked up her hand and studied her fingers, before moving to look at her toes.

"If it were poison, her stomach would be inflamed, and her bowels would be bloated and evident to the touch. Or if it affected her heart, her fingers and toes would turn dark, as the blood would not stimulate them." He said, looking at her face, before meeting Robb's eye. "I must ask you some questions that you may have reservations on answering, but I beg you be forthright in your response." The maester said, sternly, but not unkindly. 

"Yes, of course." Robb said, nodding.

"You've been wedded almost two moons now?" Maester Doyen asked softly.

"Yes." Robb said, with a small smile pulling at his lips.

"You've performed your husbandly duty from the first night and beyond?" The maester asked quietly.

"Yes." Robb said, swallowing nervously, as the maester nodded. "Frequently." He mumbled, not meeting the maester's eye.

"When you spill your seed, you do so in her womb?" The maester asked, gently.

"Yes." Robb said, glancing at the maester, before back to Marra. 

"She was a maiden when you took your vows?" Maester Doyen asked, eyeing Robb.

"She was." Robb replied softly.

"You saw evidence of this on your first night?" He asked, gently.

"Yes. There was some blood and she had a small amount of discomfort." Robb said, fleetingly meeting the maester's eye.

"Do you know when, approximately, was her last moonblood?" The maester asked, smiling kindly at Robb.

"She, I don't think she's had one since we took our vows." Robb said nervously, licking his lip, as the maester nodded.

"I will have to examine her more thoroughly when she wakes, and it's still a little early to tell, but I believe she suffers from a woman's ailment. Your mother had a similar issue with Catelyn, you were probably too young to remember, and hers was not so forceful. I've read that a mother's worry can compound the issue, so take care to clear her mind." The maester said, patting Robb upon the shoulder. Robb's eyes widened as his mind worked at the maester's words.

"She, she's..." Robb strained, working his throat to get the words forth.

"Yes, it's taken root very quickly, but it's not an unheard of phenomenon. It's early, a moon, perhaps a bit longer, so we must be patient." The maester said, as Robb smiled widely. "Fetch me when she wakes, and I will speak with her. Also, I believe your lord father has been seeking audience with you. Shall I retrieve him? You're welcome to my solar." The maester finished, as Robb's face dropped.

"Yes, thank you, Maester Doyen." Robb said, with a strained smile.

 

* * *

 

Robb tried to smile easily at his father, as they sat in the maester's solar, but found it becoming more difficult under the scrutiny of his father's gaze. 

"The maester believes you've gotten a pup on your new little wife." His father rasped. "He also reports that you busted down his bloody door of the mind she had been poisoned." He finished, staring levelly at Robb. 

"Yes, she was retching most terribly." Robb said, shaking his head.

"But poison, why in Seven Hells would you think on poison, a woman's weapon?" His father rasped, leaning forward in his chair, and pinning Robb to his seat with his gaze. "I'm allowing you this moment to explain yourself, for it would be ill of me to cut down a man who so recently learned his bitch meant to whelp." He spat, clenching his jaw.

"It's, it's a great pile of pig shite, and my boot is stuck in the middle." Robb said, laughing at the rafters, before turning his sad eyes to meet his fathers. 

"Which part? You fucking the whole blasted kitchen or you running off to secure the only maid unwilling to perch atop your thrice damned cock?" His father rasped, the muscles in his jaw jumping. "Mayhaps, if you wore your pretty blue dress down to the kitchens, the maids would see you a bitch and stop trying to get pups off you." His father spat, as Robb smiled sadly.

"I don't know how to make it right. I want to, Gods, I just don't know how." Robb said, guiltily meeting his father's eye.

"Why the hair?" His father barked, slamming his hand to the table.

"I, I don't know." Robb said, laughing quietly and shaking his head. 

"Her handmaiden, and her serving girl were replaced with orphans from Wintertown, why?" His father barked.

"They, they treated her disrespectfully and were abusive towards her." Robb said, shrugging.

"Your petition for the holdfast, she didn't want them from you, you wanted her from them?" His father rasped quietly, his eyes narrowing as his mind ran.

"Yes." Robb whispered, looking to the rafters.

"Piss on that now. She won't be fit for travel once the rebuilding's done." His father spat, not unkindly, as Robb nodded, with a forlorn smile. "A woman's weakest when she grows a babe, and you kicked her into a viper's nest without a stitch of cloth to cover her arse." His father rasped, rubbing his hand up his face, as Robb nodded, and his eyes began to sting.

"I had never thought for any of this to happen." Robb said, as he stared at the table before him.

"That's the bloody issue, you never think." His father rasped, not ungently. "Are there any others that needs dismissed?" His father asked, as Robb met his gaze and shook his head. "You've taken leave of their skirts?" His father asked evenly.

"Yes, Gods, nearly eight moons ago! I haven't touched them since I first met Marra, I swear it! I even stopped going to the kitchens when they were there during the daylight because they were so brazen in their advances and I wanted no part!" Robb said, and threw his hands up in frustration, while his father's eyes roved over him, appraising the value of his words, and giving him one stiff nod.

"Your brother has convinced your mother that it was affliction that caused them to shorn their heads like men of the faith. Lucky for you that your mother has difficulty spotting the ugliness in the ones she holds to her heart so that will keep for a time. If they continue to act out, she will see through the farce, believe that." He rasped, as Robb nodded numbly. "Move your arse, let us go view this steaming pile you've dumped in the kitchen." His father rasped, rising from his seat.

"I don't wish to leave her before she wakes." Robb pleaded from his seat.

"Aye, and I don't wish to be barred from your mother's thighs when she learns of this folly. But we're going, just the same." His father rasped sternly, towering over him, until Robb reluctantly stood.


	28. Chapter 28

Robb watched his father do as he should have done, and pulled each maid aside, one by one. He asked them all quietly, but sternly, if they wished to bring shame upon their lady by acting out against the daughter of one of Winterfell's oldest bannermen. When they hung their heads and murmured a soft reply, he would pat them on the shoulder and tell them that they wouldn't speak on it again. By the time they left the kitchens, the maids were smiling timidly and beginning to talk and laugh again. 

"Keep your sights on Elena. Did you see her eye? She was holding a part back, and needs be watched, might be it's just nerves. Mayhaps instruct the serving orphan to set eyes on her, though it'd be safer if she just steered clear." His father rasped quietly, as they stood outside Robb's chamber door. 

"Her eye?" Robb said, trying to picture what his father meant, but his mind failing to do so.

"Aye. Defiance, might be. Another man had that glimmer, right before he spewed forth vile shite about mine union with your mother, and things about her no other man needs discuss. He didn't stop speaking until I held his throat in my hand, took it right from his thrice damned body, the wretch." His father spat, clenching his fists.

"I never heard Ned speak this story from Winterfell's defense." Robb said, eyeing his father with a cocked eyebrow and a smile.

"No, he was just a seedling in your mother's belly then. Your new good father was there. Nearly pissed himself from laughter, clapped me upon the back and handed me a wineskin." His father rasped, with a barking laugh, and turned his eyes from the memory to meet Robb's. "Take care with her, the Umbers are good folk." His father rasped, patting his shoulder, before taking his leave off into the night, as Robb stood working his words. 

Marra sat at the small table in front of their hearth, spooning stew into her mouth, as Robb entered their chamber. When her eye caught his, she smiled at him as though they shared a secret, before shyly turning her gaze back to her bowl. The fingertips of her free hand twisted idly in the fabric covering her belly, her hand resting in her lap. Robb closed the space between them in long strides, and knelt beside her seat, resting a large hand upon her thigh.

"How do you feel?" Robb asked, peering up into her face.

"Like I never want eggs again. Oh, I don't even want to say their name." She said, her face twisting into a grimace at the thought, as Robb lightly laughed. "The maester, he already spoke with you?" She asked timidly, as Robb swiped his thumb across her chin, collecting the stew that had fallen there.

"He did." Robb said, smiling and licking his thumb.

"Does it, are you, pleased?" Marra said trepidatiously, as she released her spoon and brought her hands together in her lap.

"There isn't a man alive more pleased than I." Robb whispered softly, and brought his hand to cup her face, his thumb gently sweeping across her cheek. Marra smiled sweetly at him, as he pulled her in for a tender kiss, kneading her thigh with his fingers.

 

* * *

 

"Maester Doyen said you experienced sickness with Catelyn, My Lady." Marra said primly, as she broke her fast with her good mother.

"Yes, I did. It would strike me most of the morning, but a few times, of the evenings, as well." Sansa said, pushing the tray of eggs farther from Marra. "One night Sandor brought me a tray of lemon cakes and plopped them right in our bed, and, well, he never did that again!" Sansa laughed, her mind in a different time.

"How long did your affliction last, My Lady?" Marra asked, her eyes filled with worry.

"Only a moon, perhaps two." Sansa said, smiling gently at Marra. "Did Maester Doyen fail to give you proper education on your ailment?" Sansa asked, as her face grew concerned.

"I beg your pardon, My Lady. He did speak with me, and gave me a book to read for guidance. He also told me I should seek you out, if you would allow it, because you are more of an expert than he, you having carried eight babes and him none." Marra said nervously, fearing she had overstepped herself, as her hand clutched at her meal cloth.

"Maester Doyen is a wise man, and Winterfell is lucky to have him." Sansa said, patting Marra's hand. "The book he gave you, I'm sure it's the same he gave me. A good read if you would like to stay up with night terrors." Sansa laughed, as Marra's face paled. "Please forgive me, Lady Marra. That book was written by a maester for a maester, not an expectant mother who may weep or laugh at any given moment, perhaps even both at once." Sansa said, with kindness in her face.

"I, I beg your pardon for being so forward, but since I learned of the babe, there is a fear that has taken root in me, and I find sleep difficult." Marra whispered, her mind on the worry of the past sennight, as Sansa nodded knowingly. 

"That is a part that will never go away, only lessen, over time. You will look upon your fragile babe, as you hold it tightly in your arms, and your mind will tell your heart that you could never hope to keep it safe. However, your little bundle, that you clutch to your chest, will grow up, and they will be strong, like Robb, and Sandor, and your own father. And the time that you thought them weak, will be so long ago, that it becomes a fog, and all that stands before you is a proud man grown." Sansa said, wiping a tear from her cheek, and smiling through clouded eyes. "Tell Robb of your worry, and let him soothe it. Did you know that when he was a boy, he once snuck a stable cat into his chamber when her time was nearing?" Sansa said, laughing, as her tears dried. "He kept her in there for quite some time. She had her kittens in his clothing chest, ruining some of his finest winter furs. When one of my handmaidens told me that there were odd smells coming from his quarters, I sent Sandor to suss it out. The kittens eyes had already opened, he'd hidden them for so long. When Sandor took them back to the stables, he wept most terribly, and said he'd heard a stablehand say that the old tomcat that sired them had killed her last litter, and that's why he'd taken her. He helped Sandor fasten coverings over an empty horse stall, so they might grow in peace. All those cats you see running in and out of the stables, they are the descendants of Robb's litter, his legacy." Sansa said, laughing with Marra. "Robb has a good heart, he has always been amiable, and quick with a joke, even at his own expense. I do not doubt, even for a moment, that he will do what ever is necessary to protect you, and your children." Sansa said, smiling at Marra, before taking a sip from her cup. "And if he displeases you, bring me into your confidence, and I will set him to rights." Sansa said, as her eyes twinkled. 


	29. Chapter 29

Joryn tried desperately to focus on her husband and the pleasure he was attempting to work from her body. Her teats bounced wildly on her chest, as Ned loomed over her watching them, and pumping rapidly into her. The bends of her knees began to ache from his tight grip that folded her legs up close to her body, and left her sensitive slit open to the savagery of his onslaught. She fought to clear her mind, and enjoy the beast that hid behind Ned's quiet demeanor, after she had awaken it by wantonly pawing at him. Her moans sounded hollow to her ears, and when she told him her pleasure was about to overtake her, her mind chided her for being a damned liar. Her poor husband didn't even realize her falsehood, as he encouraged her with his words. She shrilled loudly, a mummer of herself, hoping that was somewhat close to her usual feral sounds, and clenched the muscles of herself around him, to seal the farce. When Ned began praising her, telling her how good it felt when she took her pleasure upon his cock and that she would milk him dry, she smiled to herself, feeling a small amount of accomplishment. The sound of his hips smacking swiftly against her flesh filled her ears, and for the first time she heard the squelch of her juices, as he took her, and felt a tinge of embarrassment. Glancing to his face, she hoped him too lost in pleasure to hear the bothersome noise of her wetness. His fingertips began to dig harshly into the skin of her knees, and she could feel his cock jerking inside of her, as her name fell from his lips, mixed with a string of curses. When he finally withdrew from her, she stretched out her legs, the soreness of them rivaling her tender folds, as she searched the dimly lit ceiling for an answer that would ease her unquiet mind. Her husband's large hand waved in front of her face, the outline of it blurring in her vision, as her eyes clouded with tears. 

"Jor, what, what is it? Tell me what troubles you." Ned pleaded, turning her face towards him with his hand, and his eyes brimming with concern.

"Ned, I want to be a good wife to you." Joryn said, as a tear broke loose from the corner of her eye and soaked into the cloth of the pillow.

"But you already are! You're not just a good wife, you're the greatest wife!" Ned exclaimed, smiling at her adoringly, before capturing her lips with a loving kiss. Joryn's sobs wracked against Ned's mouth, causing him to pull back in alarm. "Please, Joryn, tell me the meaning." Ned pleaded urgently.

"The greatest wife would give you an heir, and not harbour resentment towards her good sister with each day that her belly grows." Joryn choked through her tears, and turned her head away from him.

"Joryn, I promise, one day you will grow to be as fat as a holdfast." Ned said teasingly. His eyes grew wide in mock fear, when she swiftly straddled his hips and wrapped her hands about his throat.

"Why you little-" she started, his head rocking slightly as she gently shook his neck. 

"I yield, I yield!" Ned sputtered, raising his hands in submission, as he began to laugh. She drew her hands from his neck and settled them upon the tops of her thighs, her heaviness returning.

"And if I don't?" She asked, the corners of her mouth twitching downward.

"It will happen when the Old Gods decide that it should. Until then, we get to relish in each other. And you, you get to continue your sword training, you won't be able to do that once you're with child." Ned said soothingly, as he smiled at her.

"Why wouldn't I be able to continue? On Bear Island women with child continue their training!" Joryn said, placing her hands defiantly upon her hips.

"You could hurt yourself, or the babe, it wouldn't be safe!" Ned chided gently, stroking her knee with his fingers. 

 "And if I'm attacked while I'm round with child? Shall I ask them to return in four moons?" She said tersely, and held him evenly in her gaze. 

"Winterfell's fiercest guards will be without our chamber, and follow you everywhere, besides." Ned said gently, ready to call an end to this foolish talk. 

"But you would have me defenseless?" Joryn said haughtily, her face twisting in irritation.

"No, of course not, I will be your sword." Ned murmured, running his hands over her thighs.

"Oh, will you? And I your sheath? So I will not be banned from taking your sword in hand once you've deemed me too fragile for anything but laying on my back?" Joryn spat, as Ned's ears reddened at her words, and his throat jumping as he swallowed.

"You know that's not what I meant." Ned whispered, as his eyes turned sad. "I'm sorry that you're hurt, I wish I could right it for you, but please don't make me your straw man." Ned said softly, pulling her hands into his. "If, if it's that important to you, I will consider looking into special padding." Ned said, meeting her eye, as a wide grin broke on her face. "But, in exchange, you must meet my conditions." Ned finished sternly, as her face turned questioning.

"My Lord, but it's too large to fit back there, even with oils!" Joryn suddenly exclaimed, her face a mask of seriousness, as Ned worked her words, and turned crimson.

"That, that's not what I, I already told you that was accidental, I swear it! The angle was-" Ned floundered, as Joryn's teats bounced with her laughter.

"Oh, I'm sure many a lady has heard that tall tale." Joryn said, quirking her eyebrow as Ned covered his hot face with his hands, and when he let forth a pitiful groan, Joryn's laughter bounced loudly off the stones and raced through the corridor without their chamber.


	30. Chapter 30

From time to time, Sansa's mind would wander over the years she had lived, recalling Ned's face as she held him for the first time, or her mother's embrace the last time she ever laid eyes on her, as she bid her farewell. Most of her wanderings took her to Sandor, the graceful movement of his limbs as he removed his armor, the way his leg muscles jumped when he padded through their chamber, or the first time he rasped his love for her, as though it were an apology. When she was at her most unladylike, she would even recall him naked as his nameday, tall and wide as a castle wall, with his manhood jutting out crudely in front of him. Seeing him like that on their first wedded night had made her nervous, scared her even, though she was the one that had hinted to the union from the start. He was strong, an imposing figure, and one that she would never be able to defeat physically, though she did, without even trying.

Sansa always smiles when she thinks on that first night, when she laid shivering in her thin shift as he joined her, and pulled her close. She brushed his face with her fingertips, and told him she loved him, while planting a tender kiss upon his lips, and he began releasing on the shift covering her belly, soaking it through, his seed hot on her skin. It was the first time she had ever seen him truly embarrassed, and he probably would have ran right out of the chamber if she had not held tightly to him. When she asked him if it was her that excited him so, her tone far more sultry than she had intended, his demeanor changed, and he kissed desperately at the skin of her neck, saying 'only every fucking minute, of every fucking hour, of every fucking day.' At the time, Sansa would have been put off by his crude language in their marriage bed, but his hands swiftly ventured over her as though he had thought to touch her everywhere at once, while his mouth worked at her, and her mind shut out the idea of her offense.

Sandor always treated her like the most desirable woman in Westeros, and every night made her feel like the queen she might have been. Her treacherous body even started to enjoy the crass words that could fall from his lips, and would respond defiantly, causing even more unholy things to flow from his mouth. The first time her pleasure overtook her, three moons after they said their vows, she understood his use of the harsh language. Her mind had searched for the appropriate words, as his mouth and fingers took her into bliss, an act that he had begged to try even though she found it distasteful, yet she had finally conceded. The euphoria that swept over her was like nothing she had ever thought to experience, and later she felt ashamed of the way she thrashed herself wantonly against his mouth, while crying out to the heavens like a common whore.

Sansa laughs to herself now when she thinks about the ire that grew within her the next time he attempted it. She lashed out at him and asked if he were trying to turn her into a brazen harlot, while reminding him that she was a Stark of Winterfell, not some tavern girl, to which he responded that she still rode his cock all the same. Remembering his retort still brings a blush to her cheeks, even after all the time that has passed, and in her most honest moments she can admit that then, and now, it causes a tingle to rush between her thighs. She tried to guard herself against the ecstasy of his mouth the next time she allowed him, biting her lips closed, and shutting her eyes tightly, but he proved a formidable foe, and drove her release from her, as she moaned in her chest and lights flashed and danced behind her eyelids. That night as she laid on her side, her disgrace bearing down upon her, he asked her why she was so adamantly against an act that gave her so much pleasure. When she told him it wasn't proper, his laughter shook their featherbed, and he informed her that he wasn't proper, never had been and never would be, so if she had wanted proper then why in Seven Hells did she take vows with a cur like him. She had stayed silent for a long time, thinking on his words, before he spoke again. He suggested that perhaps she did want a crude man between her thighs, though she was too much of a lady to admit it, and that she could continue to be an innocent gentle lady, but he would always be the horrific beast that buries his cock in her cunt. Sansa had swiftly turned her head to protest but he had silenced her with a finger on her lips, as he rasped that she needn't fear, he would never tell a soul how much she enjoyed it.

After that night, she let him work her need from her more often, but still recoiled when he suggested taking her as she had seen animals do, telling him that there was no need for it to happen that way. She realized how wrong she had been once she stood leaning over the featherbed and he wrapped his arm around her to rub at her woman's place, as he mounted her from behind. That was the first time she had ever received her release with him inside of her, and it was far more intense than her previous experiences, though she had not thought it possible. She felt humiliated at the sounds that had erupted from her throat, and that Sandor would most definitely see her as the deviant lecher she tried to conceal, instead of his regal lady wife. He finished just as she felt her eyes begin to prickle, and leaned over her to rasp in her ear. She was shocked when he told her that her song was far more beautiful than he had ever imagined. Her confusion overtook her and she stuttered that she didn't understand his meaning, as she peered over her shoulder at him. When he saw the distress on her features, he told her that if she shed tears over it, she wouldn't be holding up her word, and that she had promised to give it gladly. Her eyes grew wide at his meaning, telling him he was a scoundrel and that he had tricked her, to which he reminded her that she gave her word, all the same. Sansa began to laugh with Sandor, as he withdrew from her and fetched a cloth from the wash basin. As he wiped gently at her thighs, his hand suddenly stilled, and his voice came out low, as he told her that if any other man showed up to collect on the tricked promise of her song, the only sound that man would hear was Sandor's greatsword cutting through the air, right before he cleaved the man in two.


	31. Chapter 31

[Picset](http://sandy-cleegs.tumblr.com/post/145719560326/i-made-my-first-picset-thank-you-to-amazing)

 

"Wait, open this one first!" Myriame said excitedly, shoving a package that had been hastily wrapped in burlap into Marra's hands.

"No, mine!" Jonnel screeched, stamping her foot and crossing her arms, her little face scrunched into a pout. 

"We will get to yours, my sweet babe, but we must be patient and wait our turn," Sansa said, sweeping Jonnel up into her arms, and pushing the girl's auburn hair away to kiss her forehead.

"Yes, Lady," Jonnel said, with her eyes cast down, as Sansa laughed.

"It's 'my lady,' my sweet. Lady was my pet direwolf. Do I look like a wolf to you?" Sansa said, dancing her fingers across Jonnel's ribs, causing the girl to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Father said you do, when you are angry!" Jonnel said excitedly.

"Oh did he now? I shall have to take a bite of him then," Sansa said laughing, as Jonnel tried to mimic her mother, and dance her little fingers in the crook of Sansa's neck. 

"Myriame, did you make this all by yourself?" Marra gushed, holding up a small asymmetrical dressing gown with an intricately, yet poorly, embroidered giant with a large dog, on the front.

"I did!" Myriame said, standing tall and puffing out her chest proudly.  

"I can tell! It has a lot of, love, put into it," Marra said, patting the eight year old that stood beaming before her.

"Yes! It took me a full fortnight, and I pricked all of my fingers," Myriame said solomnly, with wide grey eyes, and held up her hands. 

"Oh my, then we shall have to make this the first cloth that he dons!" Marra said sweetly, causing Myriame to bob her head in agreement. "Thank you, good sister, I shall treasure it always," Marra said softly, tucking the gown into her lap, beneath her rounding belly.

"Now mine?" Jonnel asked her mother, and peered into her face. The girl squealed to be let down when Sansa nodded her head. 

"Go fetch your father, he waits in the corridor," Sansa said, as Jonnel's little legs ran to the door of the sitting room. When she reached the door, she struggled to open the thick wood, ultimately giving up and pounding her little fist upon it, while calling out for her father. Soon the door was swinging open, and Sandor's large form filled the doorway.

"Aye, little one, are you making all that noise, like your mother, the wolf?" Sandor rasped, crouching down to pull Jonnel into his arms. 

"Mother is no wolf, she is Lady. She said she will bite you for saying so!" Jonnel chided, with a stern face.

"Aye, if that be the case, tell her I said it a hundred times more," Sandor rasped, his eyes glinting mischievously, as groans from their older girls rose in the room, punctuated by Sansa's gasp of 'Sandor!' 

"Could you please just bring in our gift before you continue your corruption of innocent ears?" Sansa said with a playful smirk, red high on her cheeks, and Sandor's barking laugh filled the room. Bouncing Jonnel on his hip, he disappeared from the doorway, as Sansa turned to Marra. "Please forgive Sandor, Marra. He can be a little uncouth at times," Sansa said, smiling warmly at her good daughter. When she was turning back she saw Catelyn lean over Joryn to whisper near Marra's ear, and the three of them errupted into laughter. 

"A day will come when you hope to gain even a sliver of what they share, I can promise you that," Marra said, patting Catelyn's arm as Joryn nodded, fully in agreement. Catelyn sat back in her chair and made a retching face to herself.

"Catelyn. You forget yourself," Sansa said sternly, eyeing the girl.

"I'm sorry, Mother," Catelyn said, her mouth frowning, as her father stepped back into the room easily carrying Jonnel in one arm and a large item covered in cloth in the other. He placed the object in front of Marra, before lightly placing the squirming Jonnel on her feet. 

Marra slowly pulled the cloth away as Jonnel bounced excitedly, clapping her hands. Underneath was a finely carved cradle, painted and shining, complete with ornately stitched bedding.

"I made it!" Jonnel gushed, pointing to the cradle.

"All by yourself?" Marra asked, smiling at the girl.

"Father helped, and Mother did the needlework," Jonnel beamed, staring expectantly at Marra.

"Yes, Father  _helped her,_ " Aryanna said playfully, arching her eyebrow, and met her father's eye. When the two began to chuckle, Sansa's eyes darted to them with a stern look, and they swallowed their laughter.

"It's the finest cradle I've ever seen," Marra said, pulling Jonnel forward to embrace her. "I can tell you're very proud of it," she whispered sweetly, as Jonnel stroked at the hardness of her belly.

"Did you eat him? Is that how he got in your belly?" Jonnel asked suddenly, her eyes growing wide at the thought. 

"No, little one, your brother put-" Sandor started, as Sansa's mouth flew open.

"Sandor! Truly?" Sansa gasped, her face contorted in shock.

"Bloody hell, what I was trying to say was Robb put a babe seed in there and now it grows like the plants in the glass gardens!" Sandor said, throwing up his hands and leaving the room, amid erupting fits of giggles from the girls. 

"Father should work in the garden more," Jonnel said to her mother, her face scrunched in thought.

"Should he, my sweet?" Sansa asked, smiling down at Jonnel.

"Yes! He is a good gardener, he grew all of us!" Jonnel said, waving her arms at her sisters, as Sansa's cheeks began to flame.


	32. Chapter 32

Marra sat watching Joryn lightly rubbing circles upon their good sister's back as she held her across her chest, her cheek resting upon the sleeping babe's head, and her eyes closed. When she opened them and met Marra's eye, they shined with unshed tears, as one escaped and landed upon the babe's crown. 

"Joryn?" Marra asked, reaching out to place her hand upon Joryn's arm. 

"I'm sorry, when Good Mother asked us to sit with her I thought I would be strong enough." Joryn said, her voice unsteady. "I owe you an apology, Marra." She whispered, her lips trembling, as more tears rolled down her face. 

"You've done nothing to warrant an apology." Marra said, gently stroking Joryn's arm, her eyes filled with concern. 

"It was not in deed, but in thought. My moonblood came shortly after you found out you were with child. And again the next moon, and again, as you began to grow. I was angry with you, for my own failures. I hope, I hope you will forgive me." Joryn trembled, running the sleeve of her gown over her cheeks and brushing it lightly over the babe's head. 

"There is nothing to forgive, and you have not failed. I know the time will come for you, as well. Robb jumps into all things head first, it should come as little surprise that this is no different." Marra said, indicating her rounding belly. "Ned, he is cautious, and thinks first, lucky for you. His babe is only contemplating the right time to come forth!" Marra said, smiling at Joryn, as the girl's laughter shook the sleeping babe.

"Thank you, I appreciate your kindness." Joryn said, grabbing Marra's hand in her own, and giving her a sincere smile.

"I will warn you though, when your time comes, I will not be repaying your kindness of finely embroidered clothing, nothing about my embroidery is kind." Marra jested, as Joryn laughed.

"It can't truly be that bad!" Joryn exclaimed, causing the babe to whimper. "I need to see evidence!" She whispered forcefully, patting at the babe's back.

"Never! Myriame's skill far surpasses mine!" Marra whispered back. "I wouldn't take up needlework again unless I had a knife to my throat!" Marra whispered screechingly, as she and Joryn burst into a fit of hushed giggles, while their good mother slipped quietly into the room. They greeted her warmly, as she took the sleeping babe from Joryn. The girls rose to take their leave, the reminants of their laughter bubbling forth.

"You two seem in good spirits." Sansa said sweetly, casting Marra a knowing look, as the girl gave her an almost imperceptible nod. 

"Yes, Marra was just telling me how much she wanted to show you her needlework!" Joryn trilled lightly by the door, before ducking without.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were skilled with the needle!" Sansa gushed, smiling at Marra. 

"I'm not, Lady Joryn is just playing a jest." Marra said, shaking her head. "And I believe your plan worked most wonderfully. I wish you could have seen her, she was practically serene." Marra whispered, leaning towards her good mother.

"We shall see." Sansa said, arching an eyebrow. "You did excellent work, my sweet." Sansa whispered to the babe, kissing her tenderly upon the cheek, as Marra giggled conspiratorially beside her. 

 

* * *

 

Marra caught up with Joryn down the corridor, where she leaned laughing against the stone, clutching at her sides.

"You're a right little devil!" Marra said playfully, as Joryn took her arm.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't resist the temptation!" Joryn giggled, leading them down the path.

"Perhaps you should go to the sept and speak with the septon!" Marra jested, shooting her a smile, as Joryn's laughter quaked around them. 

"No, I prefer the Old Gods. Less rules, and you can speak to them alone, without fear of a wrinkled old man answering you." Joryn finished in a whisper, grinning widely, as Marra laughed on her arm.

"Is that where you are taking me? To the Godswood to atone for your sins?" Marra said, as Joryn led them down another corridor.

"No, I thought we might go attend our husbands first." Joryn said, arching an eyebrow at Marra. "They are having wine in our solar." She said upon seeing Marra's confused expression. "Has Robb told you the tales of their drunken outings? Quite amusing." Joryn said, laughing at the images in her mind. "Ned told me that Robb once convinced him to climb to the top of the horse stalls and jump from wall to wall. He said he almost made it too, until he smacked his head into a beam and knocked himself out for a few moments and woke up in a pile of horse manure!" Joryn said, shaking her head.

"No, he hasn't spoke of it. I think he doesn't tell me for fear that I will think he is a drunken fool." Marra said, pinching the bridge of her nose, and eyeing Joryn. 

"Once Robb tried to climb the wall in the bailey, to prove to Ned that it could be done, but Ned ended up trying to climb it too, to point out his poor form, until their father found them nearly an hour later, drenched in sweat and barely five feet from the ground!" Joryn laughed, and opened the door to her solar, as Marra began to giggle beside her. 

"Marra! My sweet wife!" Robb exclaimed, jumping from his seat with his arms outstretched, his chair clattering onto the stone behind him. He smiled lopsided as he went to her, his eyes glassy, and his steps teetering slightly. Grasping her face, he crushed his lips upon hers, and began heatedly working her mouth, moaning loudly in his throat. Joryn pulled her arm from Marra's and looked to Ned, as he shrugged at her, his smile lazy and his eyes unfocused. 

"Robb, stop." Marra pleaded, as he trailed his mouth down her throat. 

"You are too delicious." He mumbled against her neck, kissing hurriedly at her skin.

"Robb, stop this." She said firmly, pushing hard at his chest with both hands, causing him to stumble back slightly.

"M'sorry." He said bashfully, taking her arm to lead her cautiously to a seat. Once she was settled, he grabbed his chair from the floor, as Ned started howling in laughter. Robb shot him a confused look, as Ned sat pointing at him, doubled over and clutching his gut, his laughter bouncing around the room. Robb glanced down and saw his cock jutting out crudely inside his breeches. "Oh." Robb muttered, before bursting into laughter, and dropping harshly into his seat. Joryn looked apologetically to Marra, and offered to escort her to her chambers.

"And leave him unattended in this state? What shall I do if he attempts to fly from the top of the stable and breaks his neck?" Marra said, throwing her hands into the air and shaking her head.

"Jor, have a drink. Here, it's me." Ned said, shoving a cup into her hand. "Mine, I mean. But you can have a drink of me, too." He slurred slightly, laughing with her, as she downed the contents. 

"Not in front of the family, dear husband." Joryn trilled, shooting Marra an apologetic look. 

"Ned! Remember when we snuck to the Godswood and-" Robb suddenly exclaimed, his face alight.

"Aye! Should we go-" Ned rushed excitedly.

"It's warm enough-" Robb said hurriedly, jumping from his seat and knocking back his chair once more.

"The Godswood?" Marra interjected, glancing nervously at Robb. 

"Yes! Will you come?" Robb pleaded, pulling at her hand.

"Only if you promise not to climb any trees." Marra said sternly, as she slowly rose from her seat.

"Oh, no, that's Joryn's pastime, not mine." Robb clipped, before doubling over in laughter, as Marra shot Joryn a questioning look.

"Shut it, you!" Ned barked, before he began laughing heartily, and Joryn smiled timidly at Marra. 

As they made their way to the Godswood, Joryn took Marra's arm in hers, watching Ned and Robb talk animatedly in front of them. 

"If you wish to go to your chambers, I will take you there." Joryn said softly, patting Marra's hand.

"I'm actually beginning to enjoy the show, he is usually so controlled with himself, afraid that I will cast him away if he says the wrong thing." Marra said lightly, smiling at Joryn. Joryn was sure Marra was about to change her heart once they were walking through the Godswood, Robb and Ned racing to the hot springs, and littering the ground with their clothes, jumping in naked as their nameday. "Oh!" Marra gasped, looking to Joryn. "You knew they were going to do this, you little devil!" Marra laughed, upon seeing Joryn's unfazed expression.

"Ned told me of times they would have too much drink and come to the hot springs to relax. He may have mentioned that they did so without a stitch of cloth." Joryn said, smiling wickedly. "Come, we can get in, too. Though perhaps a little more covered than they are." Joryn said, urging Marra forward. 

"I'm not certain I should." Marra said, watching the men splashing and yelling with each other, as they approached.

"Marra!" Robb said happily, smiling widely at her, and raising from the depths of the pool. Marra knew her husband was handsome, but for the first time, she thought she may be seeing him as everyone else did. Her throat grew tight and her tongue darted over her lips, as she watched the water trail down his broad chest in the moonlight. He beamed sweetly at her, wiping away droplets from his eyes, as the he made his way to the edge of the spring, the water lapping against his hard stomach with his movements. The spell was broken, once he leapt from the water, forgetting his immodesty, and standing in front of the women, bared to them both. 

"Robb!" Marra screeched in shock, indicating his nakedness. 

"Sorry." He said sheepishly, attempting to cover himself with his hand, while snatching a tunic from the ground, to hold in front of him. Joryn took a pull from her wineskin, as she put them to her back with a laugh, and made her way around the edge, closer to Ned.

"Will you swim with me?" Robb asked softly, running his fingertips over the neckline of her dress.

"I think I'll just soak my feet, it wouldn't be proper to undress in front of your family." She said meekly, as Joryn jumped in the waters behind him, donning nothing but a thin shift.

"Ned wouldn't mind, look at them, he doesn't even know we're here." Robb said, casually glancing over his shoulder at the pair, and indicating their disinterest in them.

"I'm as big as a castle, not some comely girl splashing playfully about." Marra said uncertainly, running her hands over her belly.

"You're always a comely girl to me." Robb said gently, bringing his hand to swipe tenderly at her cheek.

"I'm tired of looking at your arse!" Ned bellowed, before he and Joryn broke into a fit of laughter. 

"Shut your bloody mouth!" Robb yelled over his shoulder, looking sheepishly at Marra, as he stood holding the tunic over his manhood. Robb began collecting the discarded clothing and gently helped Marra sit upon them, pulling off her slippers. After he had rolled off her stockings and placed them in her shoes, he hopped back into the spring, and guided her feet into the water. Taking a seat in front of her on an elevated part of the spring, he rubbed them tenderly, easing their ache in the warm water.

"After you're done with hers, mine could use a rub, too." Ned taunted, kicking his foot, and splashing water upon Robb's back.

"Brother, it would be shameful of me to beat you bloody in front of your adoring wife!" Robb trilled over his shoulder, as his hands continued to move. They stilled when his ears heard a movement of water, and his eyes flitted to Marra's face, seeing her eyes grow wide and her mouth open. Without a word he lunged upwards, twisting around and catching Ned mid-chest with his shoulder. Ned stumbled back with a grunt and grabbed Robb by the arms, pulling him forcefully as his footing gave out and they both tumbled under the water. They came up sputtering, each trying to wrestle the other back under. Marra laughed loudly when Robb bit at Ned's arm, winning him the upper hand, amid Ned's shock and slew of curses. Not to be outdone, Ned pulled roughly at Robb's leg with his own, causing it to buckle, and sending him back into the water. They grappled until both were out of breath and calling a truce for a drink.

"You marked me, you bastard!" Ned laughed, rubbing at the bite marks on his arm, and taking a deep pull from his wineskin. 

"Tell everyone it was your bear of a wife." Robb said, laughing as Joryn made a face of mock offense, and pulled Ned close to her. A tiny grunt of discomfort turned his gaze to Marra, her face in a grimace and her hand working at her ribs. "Let me try." He said gently, standing in the spring between her legs, droplets falling off him and onto her gown. "Little babe, you're hurting your mother now." Robb said soothingly, and rubbed with some pressure at her belly, where it nestled against the bottom of her ribs. "Move your feet, little one." Robb whispered, pressing down harder in measured movements, until Marra sighed in relief. "Better?" Robb asked gently, stilling his hand. 

"Yes, thank you." Marra said, running her fingers over the back of his hand, as Robb gasped, feeling a firm kick under his palm.

"He kicked me! The little weasel kicked me!" Robb exclaimed, laughing in shock. When Marra's laughter turned to yawns, Robb climbed from the water and began to dress. Seeing her struggling to get her stockings on, he knelt before her and rolled them gently up her legs. Once they were dressed, and he had helped Marra to her feet, he turned to bid Ned goodnight but found him kissing at Joryn like a paid man.

"Gods, Ned, don't defile my favorite place in Winterfell!" Robb exclaimed, shaking his head. 

"Bugger off." Ned said, though not unkindly, and never turning to him.

"Clean up after yourself at least! I don't want to recline in your seed water!" Robb said, with a hint of pleading.

"I don't remember you asking the same of Father when we chanced upon him here with Mother." Ned said, glancing back at his brother. 

"They weren't... You told me they were playing at being wolves like we did!" Robb shrieked, his features becoming distressed, as Ned began to laugh.

"Oh, aye, they were! Didn't you hear their howls?" Ned said, his eyes shining and his tone light. "You were ten and I lied." He said, shrugging his shoulders.

"What, what else have you lied about?" Robb asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Remember that time we snuck into the stable to give apples to Stranger?" Ned asked, biting his lip to hold in his laughter.

"They were checking the riding equipment!" Robb bellowed, before groaning with realization. "That's why you never wanted to sneak back to the stables."

"You honestly believed that Mother would be out in the stables checking the crops and saddles?" Ned asked, bewilderment clouding his face.

"She, she is a lady!" Robb screeched, gulping down the night air.

"Aye, and she and Father have been playing 'Monsters and Maidens' all over Winterfell!" Ned yelled through his laughter at Robb's retreating back.


	33. Chapter 33

Marra warmed herself in front of the fire, gazing at Robb's back as he began to remove his clothing. She felt her breath quicken as his skin was exposed to her inch by inch. Pulling his tunic roughly over his head with his long fingers, she could see the muscles rippling in his back, his smooth skin stretched taut over them. Her tongue darted out, swiping over her lips, and her palms grew sweaty. He is beautifully built, a daydream of the Maiden made flesh, she thought, wiping her hands upon her skirts. The light tones of his voice carried over his shoulder, telling her some tale that she had forgotten to take in, too caught in his distraction. When he began working at his laces, the muscles of his arms jumped, clouding her mind. Her hands moved to the ties of her dress, tugging slowly at them, allowing the material to slacken. Shrugging it off her shoulders, she let the cloth fall in a heap on the floor. I want him, she thought, and pictured herself rushing forth and brazenly rubbing herself against his exposed skin. Her mind began trumpeting, in her vision she was flat as a pane of glass, not wobbling about like a wheelhouse. How will you touch him if you can't even reach him, her mind taunted, and flashed an image of her large belly pushing him away while her hands fought to lay claim to his smooth skin. For a moment she felt discouraged, and almost moved to pull her dress back up off the stones. She was practically panting by the time he started pushing his breeches over his hips with his smallclothes, his large muscular thighs shifting and flexing in the firelight. He began laughing at something he said, and though she didn't hear it, she gulped down air and shakily laughed too. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears that she wondered if he didn't hear it as well. Crouching to pick up his clothes, she saw his flaccid manhood hanging between his thighs, and wondered what it might be like to have it grow in her hands. Every time he came to her, it was already hard with need, not soft like it was now. He is as strong as five men, she thought, recalling the way he had ran with ease while he carried her. All things about him speak of his strength, her mind said, as she ran her hand softly down her round belly, trailing her fingers across the stretched skin. Her eyes drifted down to watch the babe inside of her respond, moving across her in a wave. Smiling widely, she ran her fingers across her belly once more, hoping to coax him into answering her touch again. 

"Marra," Robb said, with an urgent whisper. Her gaze shot back to him, taking in the hard expanse of his hairless chest and the heat that had settled in his features. Raking her eyes over him, she saw his manhood had already started to lengthen and harden, raising slightly upwards. His long fingers fidgeted upon the skin of his thigh, and she wanted to run her hands over his legs and feel under her palms the coarse hair that grew on them. As he started towards her, he grew with each step, jutting crudely in front of him from the thatch of dark hair. "Sweet wife, you cannot look upon me like that donning just your smallclothes, or I fear I will take you right here on the floor like a wild beast," Robb said, his eyes turning to dark pools, and his breath catching slightly. 

"Would that be so terrible?" Marra whispered, rubbing her thighs together in anticipation. Robb's tinkling laugh came out lower, caught halfway between a groan. He captured her hand in his and brought her palm to his lips, the fire behind her dancing in his eyes and mixing with his own heat. 

"In a few moons I shall remember you said such," he teased with a hint of warning, and licked lightly at the thin skin of her wrist. 

"Please do," she said, her wanton words causing his eyes to widen in surprise and a toothy grin to spread across his face.

"You temptress. What shall I do with you?" Robb asked playfully, kissing each of her fingers.

"Several things come to mind," her brazen tongue replied, as her errant hand floated up to trail her fingertips over his tantalizing chest. At her touch, his breath cut sharply and his skin prickled. 

"Are you unwell?" He asked quietly, moving his hand to touch her forehead, and searching her face with concern in his eyes.

"No, why would you think such?" Marra's brow knit, and she withdrew her hand from him to settle it upon her hip.

"You, you're not usually so... I don't mind, gods, I don't mind," he said, biting his lip with a grin, and running his fingers over her shoulders.

"Not usually so what?" She asked tersly, with a flash of irritation.

"So...so welcoming?" He tried anxiously, and within moments he regretted speaking at all.

"Welcoming?" She asked hotly, her eyes flashing. "Look at me, obviously I've been 'welcoming,'" she spat mockingly, her hands rising to showcase her large belly.

"Marra, I'm a fool. Please, let's return to where we were before I spoke so stupidly," Robb said gently, trailing his fingers down her arm. 

"What am I to do with you?" She huffed, eyeing him warily.

"Several things come to mind," he said playfully, grabbing her hand to kiss her palm once more, as her eyes rolled to the rafters with a shake of her head. 

"I just had a strong desire for you, is all, while watching you shed your clothes," she sniffed, her eyes averted.

"Mm, yes, do go on," he urged her, kissing her wrist as he had first done.

"I thought you are well built, and wanted to touch you," she said hautily, not meeting his eye.

"My lady, I will not stop you," he said huskily, his hand outstretched to caress the fullness of her chest. Marra began to weep at his words and her shoulders started to shake. "Marra, what is it?" He asked, his voice alarmed and his eyes wide, as he attempted to turn her face to his.

"You wouldn't have to stop me, I can't even reach you!" She wailed, covering her face with her hand.

"But I'm right here," he said soothingly, placing her hand upon his chest.

"I can't embrace you properly!" She mourned, her voice pitching erratically and her breath coming in short gasps. Robb pulled her side against his chest and wrapped his long arms around her.

"That's not true, look, we're embracing right now," he said softly, stroking her shoulder.

"It's not as it was, it isn't enough!" She lamented, her sobs racking through her once more. Robb stood still as stone, perplexion clouding his features, as Marra's cries tumbled around them. His mind worked to grasp the situation, his brows knitting and his throat jumping. Slowly, he released her and gently guided her to the featherbed. Urging her forward, he helped her into the bed to sit in the middle of the furs. Taking a seat facing her side, he wrapped his arms and legs around her, cacooning her in his warm body. He rocked them and placed tender kisses upon her crown. 

"Better?" He asked quietly, when her cries had turned to sniffles. She nodded meekly, before laughing sadly. 

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me," she said, flicking her eyes to his, her embarrassment smarting high on her cheeks.

"Nothing to be sorry about, I'd weep far worse than that if I thought I couldn't touch you. All the people in Winterfell would have to stuff cotton in their ears to sleep at night," he jested, sweetly kissing all of her that he could reach. Giggling lightly, she snaked her arm around his hips and rested her cheek upon his chest. 

"Robb?" She asked after a time, her warm breath ghosting across him.

"Hmm?" He hummed contentedly in his chest, running his fingers through her silken hair.

"Might you touch me now?" She asked through a small voice, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Always," he whispered, tilting her chin upwards to feast on her waiting lips. As he worked her mouth with his own, Marra felt his need grow once more and press urgently into her side. 

"Might I touch you?" She asked, pulling back to meet his eye.

"Oh gods, please do," he panted, his pupils growing at the thought, and his throat jumping. Pulling her arm from his back, she put some space between their bodies, and brought her hand cautiously towards him. He moaned above her and his eyes drifted closed when her fingertips swept lightly over his tip. Feeling encouraged with his response, she ghosted her hand over him once more. Taking his length into her hand, she began to test the strokes, gentle and hard, quickly and slowly. Watching his face for clues, she tried to determine which he liked the best. It seemed to her that he liked all of the touches equally, until she tried a firm swift stroke near his tip. Gasping, he gripped tightly at his legs, his fingernails digging into his skin. Smiling coyly to herself, she tried it again, causing his head to dip foward and a moan to rumble from his chest. Gaining some confidence, she mimicked the strokes, and sped her pace. Under her hand, his chest began to rise and fall heavily, and his moans came in quick succession. She watched as fluid began to seep and pearl upon him. Suddenly, his head whipped up, and his hand was over hers, stilling it. "Too much," he said heatedly, gasping for breath. 

"You weren't enjoying it?" She asked, trying to figure where she had miscalculated. 

"I most definitely was enjoying it. You were about to see my enjoyment all over your beautiful hand," he laughed, his breath still coming more quickly. When his meaning dawned on her, she bit her lip at the thought and began to laugh with him. Her laughter trailed off when his hands began to dance over her, rubbing lightly at her back and running over her tender chest. She sucked in her breath when his fingers began to stroke at her overly sensitive nipples. When he pushed her back against his leg, and captured one in his mouth, she moaned loudly into the air above them. With each flick of his tongue, her blood grew hotter and raced through her body. Had she been more ablebodied she would have pushed him down on the featherbed and writhed against him, no matter how wanton it would have seemed. Instead, she settled for grasping his hand and placing it brazenly against her smallclothes. 

"Gods," Robb panted onto her breast when his fingers grazed the wet silk between her thighs. Withdrawing his sprawling limbs, he laid her gently on her side atop the furs. Cursing under his breath, he fought with the knot of her smallclothes, his distress growing as she began to giggle at him. Her laughter turned to shock when he ripped them from her and tossed them away. 

"Robb! That was my favorite pair!" She chided, irritation sprinkling her tone.

"Those? I hate those, I will get you a new pair from the seamstress," he said sternly, eyeing the offending fabric upon the stones.

"That was my new pair from the seamstress," she said flatly, her lips pursed. 

"Well, I shall get you five new pairs and tell her not to use faulty cords on them!" He said with a wide grin. 

"Yes, my lord, as you say," Marra laughed, shaking her head. She reclined on her side, nestled on the furs with her eyes closed, as he ran his hands over her body, kneading and massaging her. When his hand stilled on her belly and she felt their babe move against him, she opened an eye to look at him. His face was twisted in wonder and when he looked at her, he smiled devilishly. 

"Little babe, I'm going to do deliciously wicked things to your sweet mother now. Close your eyes and ears," he whispered to her belly, while holding her eye. She would have laughed, if not for his smouldering look that caused her breath to catch and her thighs to rub together in want. When he brought his hand up her leg to finally rub his fingers against her, she hissed at the contact and wanted to plead for more. "I'm burning all of my clothing on the morrow, if this is the result," he rumbled, his fingers sliding through her folds, reveling in her desire. She did plead and beg for more, when he laid on his side and placed her leg to rest upon his cheek, sweeping broad strokes of his tongue up her wet center. Looking over her shoulder, she could see his body sprawled out, his manhood stiff and leaking against his stomach. For a moment, she thought about what it might be like to take him in her mouth, but it was expelled from her mind when he pushed a finger into her. She squirmed as he worked at her, his tongue rough against her sensitive flesh, and his long finger rubbing against something so sweet that she cried out like a tavern wench. Her peak built quickly within her, and she begged him stop. 

"More, please," she rushed, her flushed chest heaving. 

"My lady, do you wish me to stop or do you wish for more?" Robb asked teasingly, his eyes unfocused and confused. 

"Yes, both. I want to, I wish for you to..." she tried to form her words, but her thoughts were scattered, and uncooperative. "Could we?"

His eyes lit up at her meaning, and he scrambled to his knees. "Say no more, I've got just the thing," he said in half jest and half want. When she attempted to rise, he pushed her gently back to her side, "Stay just as you are," he whispered. Bringing her knees up as far as she could against her belly, she was unsure of what he wanted her to do. "Yes, just like that," he said, giving himself a quick stroke as he took in her exposed flesh. Leaning over her, he nudged at her entrance, coating himself in her. "Is this enough?" he asked sweetly in her ear, propping his weight on the arm beside her head.

"Yes," she hissed, as he moved into her slowly. Robb moved his forearms to the furs about her head, supporting his torso, but warming her with his skin. He thrust languidly against her, her body taking him in to his half, as he peppered kisses upon her cheek. She yearned to move against him, as she had done before she had grown heavy with child, and force him to seat himself fully within her. "More," she huffed, her frustration growing, with his lazy half thrusts. Her lids drooped and a soft sigh escaped her lips when he met her demands and gave his all to her. 

"You are a vision, my love," he whispered against her shoulder, his hips kissing against her, lightly and then firmly. A slight awkwardness settled in her chest at his words. My love, she thought, wondering what the words would taste like upon her tongue should she ever mutter them. He used the term freely, and though she had never uttered it back, she knew he would like to hear it. There were a few times that she had thought it, and came so tantalizingly close to saying it, but she knew once it was done, there would be no undoing it. She hadn't held herself back when she had told him she hated him, all those moons ago. He had seemed to not even be bothered by it, instead even thinking upon the words as he took himself in hand. She wanted to laugh at the picture of it in her mind, but she didn't want to explain her thoughts to him. If she even giggled while he pumped swiftly into her as he did now, he would no doubt take offense and the moment would be in ruins. So she bit at her lip and forced her mind back to the pleasure that rushed within her when he snaked a hand down her body to rub so delightfully at the tight curls of her mound. She could feel her peak roiling under her skin and threatening to boil over. Love, her mind pounded, chasing away her heavenly finish. The word swirled in her mouth, menacingly close to pouring forth. She groaned in frustration at her inner struggle, and battled with her mind to get back to that delicious moment that eluded her. Taking her groan for encouragement, he sped the movement of his fingers, and rested his head upon her temple, his pants ghosting hotly over her ear. Just when she thought she had succeeded in her efforts, her legs beginning to tremble against his onslaught, and her toes curling, her unquiet mind chided her once more. Just say it, her mind taunted, her peak fleeing from her like a craven. You're the coward, her mind trilled. Biting harshly at her lip, she threw all of her fight into obtaining her pleasure. She focused on the feel of his hard manhood plunging into her and stretching her, and his fingers working tirelessly upon her, seeking to give her what she so desperately desired. The sensation made her feel practically delirious in her need. Her blood rushed through her ears and sent tingles down her limbs. 

"Please don't stop," she begged, her fingers gripping the furs, "yes, just keep going, please." She begged, as though she may sob if he were to quit. Her toes curled tightly and she loosed a high pitched cry as her body sent jolts of pleasure through her. "Gods, I love you," she babbled, as her peak overtook her and her eyes rolled back. She heard him gasp above her, and begin to shake with his own release. 

"And I love you," he ground out into her ear, his hips jerking erratically, riding out the unraveling ends of his pleasure. 


	34. Chapter 34

"Are you sure?" Alyse whispered, her eyes wide, with her hands clutched tightly in front of her chest.

"No, not for certain. I spoke with the maester and he said it would be too early to tell, but that it seemed most probable. I've not had my moonblood yet this moon, and it usually comes with the new turn!" Joryn rushed excitedly in hushed tones, her eyes dancing. 

"Did you tell Ned?" Alyse asked, beaming at her and reaching out to grasp her hand.

"No, I wanted to know for true first. I wouldn't want to face his disappointment if it proved false," Joryn said, worrying her lip between her teeth.

"Are you not afraid that the maester will speak of it?" Alyse eyed her friend warily, concern clouding her features. 

"I bid him not to speak a word of it to anyone. I may have even pleaded and shed some tears to soften his heart," Joryn laughed, recalling Maester Doyen's discomfort at her outbursts, and his gentle, comforting words. 

"Of course you did, you wildling!" Alyse trilled, laughing with her, the sound dancing merrily around them. "Oh, Jor, I'm so happy for you. You will be a wonderful mother," she said softly, pulling her friend into a tight embrace. 

"Thank you, you are the dearest friend I could ever hope for. You've given up so much to come here with me and I've given you nothing in return," Joryn said, fiercely returning the embrace, her lip trembling slightly. 

"Don't ever say such again. It was my choice to come, and what tales I've gained! I raced for my life on horseback through the north, I betrayed your lady mother by helping you sneak out of your chambers, I disgraced my father by consuming too much drink and lying with a man who was not my husband after your wedding feast, and now I keep a secret from the heir of Winterfell!" Alyse giggled, holding Joryn's shoulders and her eye. 

"Seems to me you've had too much enjoyment and I should send you back to Bear Island straight away!" Joryn screeched, laughter overtaking them once more. 

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, Rymer sent a raven, he is to accompany the Greatjon to Winterfell for the babe's birth!" Alyse rushed excitedly. "Perhaps we shall grow big and fat together," she laughed, mirth dancing in her eyes. Her words died on her lips when the door to the chamber opened suddenly, causing their merriment to fall softly upon the stones of the floor. 

"Ned!" Joryn exclaimed, jumping straight as a stick, her hands falling to her sides with wide eyes.

"M'lord," she heard Alyse gasp beside her, mimicking her stance.

"What are you two plotting now?" Ned asked warily, moving towards them.

"N-nothing, nothing at all. Alyse was just, just brushing my hair!" Joryn said, grabbing the brush from her table and forcing it into her friend's hand, her eyes never leaving Ned.

"Yes, m'lord, just brushing m'lady's hair," Alyse squeaked beside her, her head bowed and her gaze on the floor. Joryn howled in pain and her head shot sideways, the brush tangled halfway down her tresses when Alyse made to run the brush through without even a glance. "Seven hells, Jor!" Alyse screeched, turning to her friend and fumbling to free the brush, Joryn's fingers shooting up to help her. For a moment Ned watched the two of them fight the battle for the freedom of the hairbrush, his brow knit and his face shadowed in confusion, before shaking his head slowly and retreating the way he had came. 

* * *

"It's like living in a summer storm of the north, you never know if the snow will fall harder or if the clouds will break and give rest. Just when you think you're a dead man, the sun will burst through and melt the flakes," Robb said, laughing and tilting his face to the sky. "Some nights I'm with my sweet wife and some nights it seems she's just arrived here from Skagos. When I say I've feared for my life, it is no jest," he laughed atop his mount, turning his eyes to Ned. "It's worth it though, all of her is so responsive and so..." his eyes became unfocused, his mind sending him into his memory. "I think I may enjoy it even more when she is big with child," Robb laughed, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle, "just wait, dear brother, you will see with Joryn," he said, shooting a boyish grin at Ned. 

"Aye, I have to get her big with child first though," Ned said, his face falling as he turned his eyes from his brother. Ned had never been concerned with an heir until Joryn had confessed her feelings to him. He knew it troubled her deeply and was desperate to make it right for her. If he had his way, he would just as soon spend his time with her alone. He could tell it weighed on her every time she would admit that her moonblood was upon her, yet again. The back of his mind had begun to needle at him that perhaps the problem lie with him and not her. If that were the case, Winterfell would fall to Robb's son, and not his. He tried not to let the thought bother him, he knew if the boot were on the other foot that Robb would be happy for him and would not care about the lands and titles. Even still, his blasted brother, without a care in the world, was jumping headfirst without him, as he had done all their lives.

"It will happen, I have no doubt," Robb replied lightly, smiling at Ned. "I hadn't thought for it to happen so soon, yours is more the normal course," he said brightly, moving his horse closer to Ned's and stretching his long arm to grip his shoulder. "Perhaps the gods knew I needed help to keep her from running away from me," he laughed lightly, withdrawing his hand and giving their mounts space, as Ned's laughter began to rumble forth. 

"That's the truth," Ned said soberly, mirth dancing in his eyes when he glanced at his brother. "How you ever managed to secure her in the first place is a bloody miracle." Their laughter rang out as they spurred their mounts forward.

* * *

 "There is nothing here," Robb said, sheathing his sword while pacing the ground and moving aside some brush. The midday sun scattered leafy patterns upon the earth, and warmed him in his armor. "Are you certain this was the area?"

"Aye, the southern woods, near the old mill, not hard to confuse," Ned said, his face serious and his hand gripped tightly upon the hilt of his broadsword, astride his steed. He didn't doubt his brother for a moment, Robb could spot tracks better than he ever could, and it was plain, even to him, that these woods were untouched. 

"Perhaps the other side of the mill?" Robb tried, heaving himself up gracefully off the dirt and back on his mount.

"Mayhaps," Ned said uncertainly, and signaled the group of men to form up. Ned knew if anyone had been in these woods, Robb would spot it. He sometimes liked to think that his brother had gained his tracking skills by following around all the lost animals of Winterfell when he was a boy. They steered their horses to the trees and quietly wove through the forest to the other side of the mill. The other side was not nearly so populated to give cover and didn't seem a place for deserters or spies to hide. The land looked undisturbed and much like it had looked Ned's whole life. Robb leapt from his horse and drew his sword once more, studying the ground and walking the treeline. He raised his hand to his eye and peered into the distance, before turning his gaze to the trees and running his gloved fingers upon the bark of the one closest. Nudging the foliage with the toe of his boot, he took in the ground and began striding deeper into the woods. He stopped several times to crouch beside some brush, before returning back to Ned.

"Nothing, I see nothing," Robb shrugged, stepping out of the trees and looking up at Ned. "Perhaps a miscommunication?" He asked, returning to stand by his mount.

"No, it was very clearly communicated, there was no dicing it." Ned retorted, his frustration peppering his tone and his body sore from their hours of riding. "Bart, tell me again exactly what was relayed to you, leaving nothing out," Ned commanded, turning to one of the guards accompanying them.

"That several of the washerwomen had been making for Wintertown to gather supplies from the visiting merchants and they had spotted men lurking in the southern woods by the old mill, around ten, and donning armor, but not Winterfell's sigil." Bart stated matter-of-factly, looking Ned in the eye.

"Who reported this to you?" Robb asked, his brow furrowed, and his gloved hand cupped to his head to hold the sun at bay.

Bart's eyes darted to Robb's and his voice lost some confidence when he spoke again, "One of the kitchen maids, my lord."

"Which one?" Robb barked unkindly at the man, and roughly sheathed his sword.

"Senelle, my lord," Bart replied promptly, as Robb let out the breath he had been holding. Senelle was a gentle woman and he had never known her to be dishonest. Sure, she had allowed Robb to lie for her, but she was upset at the idea and hadn't wanted to go along with the farce. She had always treated him like a son, just as Bess had.

"Forgive me, I spoke out of turn," Robb said kindly to the man and pulled himself easily into his saddle. "If Senelle said she saw them, then she saw them. She isn't one for deceitful words."

"I don't think she saw them though, my lord. She told me Elena had asked her to report it because she was so sick with fright," Bart said, eyeing Robb warily. Robb's stomach dropped from him, and his heart beat thunderously in his chest. 

"Ned, pull them back. We must return at once." Robb spat, his voice filled with worry, and his face stone, as he roughly pulled at the reins of his horse, before spurring his mount off into a lathering run.


	35. Chapter 35

Marra stared down the maid before her and tested the ropes about her wrists. Her heart hammered in her ears and her throat constricted with the cloth in her mouth, but she would be damned before she would let the bitch see her panic. If she could just get her hands free she may be able to grab something to defend herself. Her eyes flit about the room, Robb had an old tourney sword in the wardrobe, she knew, but she had no hope to outrun the maid. Perhaps the iron poker of the hearth would offer a better chance, it was heavier but would cause more damage if she could swing it hard enough.

"Your little orphans were easy," the maid laughed, her eyes menacing, "scrawny little things. You should have fed them better. I bet they would have eaten that slop that you pushed away." Marra thought the maid might have been comely once, if it weren't for the way her face contorted and the shortness of her hair, as it grew back. "I thought it would be enough, to watch you suffer. I barely even had to try to bend the others to my will and have them torment you, and he hadn't even touched half of them. I had hoped you might even run all the way back to the Last Hearth, and with any luck, get yourself raped and killed along the way. Wouldn't that have been a delight?" The maid moved to stand in front of the chair that was now Marra's prison and produced a dagger from her sleeve. "But no, you chose to remain here and spread your legs like a dutiful wife. What do you have to say for yourself?" She asked, pulling roughly at the fabric in Marra's mouth. "If you scream I'll open your throat from ear to ear." Marra stared at the maid before her, Elena, and clenched her jaw tightly shut. "Not much for words, are you? Are you simple? Must be for marrying that whore." Elena spat viciously.

"Is that why you're doing this, because you wanted him?" Marra's words jumped from her as she fought to hold them back. Elena's eyes flashed angrily and she struck Marra hard upon her cheek, causing white lights to burst and flash in her eyes.

"I would never touch him, that filthy cur," she spat, spittle flying from her lips and her eyes narrowed. "No, I had a husband, a strong one, a good one, and he was taken from me." Elena seemed to calm a moment with the thought of her husband. "He was nothing like the rubbish you lot deem men, he was a true man," she stated proudly, her tone softening. "All I wanted was to take back what had been stolen from me, but you couldn't allow that, could you? You had to go squeal like a little piglet, and bring down your bastard husband and the filth that sired him. 'Do you mean to bring shame upon the lady of Winterfell?'" She mocked mirthlessly, her face twisting in disgust. "No, the glorious lady of Winterfell disgraces herself all on her own by allowing a mangy dog to fuck her every night. She probably only lets him mount her from behind so that she doesn't have to look upon his hideous face. Would that I could finish the job that another man started." Elena brought the point of her dagger to Marra's belly, and she flinched slightly at the prick as blood welled around the tip, the red spreading through the fabric of her thin shift. "I was to have a babe you know. A big, strong boy, like my husband. But he was lost to me too, when I was too griefstricken to eat or stand. So your loving husband owes me that as well. It should have been him that was cut down, not my Dalen," she pulled the blade away and pointed it to the featherbed in Marra's chamber. "That's where he will find you, gutted and bled out, after I carve his heir from you," she spat, putting their faces close and grabbing Marra's throat and squeezing until tears began to prickle in the corners of her eyes. "Every new day that I have to see you grow and watch him prance about, is like a dagger to my chest. You know why he smiles so much? Because he leached every smile out of my heart, and Dalen's heart, and our child's heart," her voice quavered slightly as she released Marra's throat and straightened herself. She gave Marra her back and brought a hand to her face, her shoulder's shaking lightly. With one hard sniff, she cleared her throat and turned back around. "Look at you, so calm. I was like that once too. When I learned Dalen would be standing guard over the illustrious lady of Winterfell and her little bitches, instead of fighting in the vanguard. But I learned too late that my calmness was misplaced, and that fucking Lannister dog had traded Dalen out for his wretched whelp. He perished fighting fiercely while your wretched husband stood safely behind stone amid his poxy sisters and the bitch that birthed them. What I would give to put them all to the sword," she said menacingly, her eyes dancing at the thought. Her hand shot to Marra's mouth when a soft knock came at the door. 

"Marra, are you unwell?" Joryn's voice muffled through the wood. "I've been waiting for you by the gardens for nearly an hour! Wrap a fur around that big belly and get moving, I have much to discuss with you!" Joryn trilled, her excitement evident and her words rushed. Elena's eyes bore into Marra's, and she raised the tip of the dagger to her throat. 

"Send her away," Elena whispered harshly in her ear, the tip of the blade drawing droplets.

"Joryn, beg pardons, I can't attend you," Marra said, her voice strained and quivering.

"Come now, you promised! It's important! If you don't feel like walking, let me in and we can sit by the fire," Joryn retorted, pushing upon the barred door.

"I'm sorry, but I can't, I'm..." Marra's eyes fluttered frantically around the room, and her fear swelled in her chest. She yearned to call out to her for help, but knew she would be struck down before the words left her throat. Her dread coiled and settled in her stomach, and she felt her sweet babe move when her gaze landed on Myriame's little dressing down, hanging over the side of the cradle in the corner. "I've taken up needlework, just as I told you I would." Marra stated loudly, her babe moving once more. She felt Robb's strength within her, as though their sweet child was trying to come to her aid before he had even drawn his first breath. She prayed out to the old gods in her mind, as she waited with bated breath. Please remember, she pleaded, please. For several heartbeats, Joryn did not respond, and she could almost picture her face on the other side of the door, screwed up in confusion and a retort forming on her tongue. Please understand, clever girl, please, Marra begged.

"I see," Joryn said at last, her voice strained, as though she were holding herself back. "And I take it that you are so indisposed at the moment?" She asked, her breath hitched.

"Yes," Marra said firmly, holding back her relief from painting itself across her face. 

"I'll leave you to it then..." Joryn said, "but I'll return later to see the work." Marra felt her heart soar, please be quick, please. 

"By the time she calls on you again, you'll be nothing but shreds of meat and blood," Elena whispered in her ear, causing her joy to die in her mouth. "They say that one is clever, but I've already taken countless babes from her. The stupid bitch can't even detect the hint of moontea in her drink, or cooked into her meat. Tried to do the same for you but you just spewed it all back up like a bloody river, more's the pity, could have saved yourself this pain," she whispered harshly.

Marra's heart shattered for Joryn at the maid's words. She recalled the times that her good sister had looked so forlorn and distant. Marra knew that when she got out of this mess, that would be the first person she would embrace. It would be painful for her to hear, but she must know that the trouble wasn't with her. I must find a way, she thought, Joryn must know. She steeled herself resolutely and set her mind to ways that she might free herself. 

"Do you think he will come for you? Is that why you wear such a brave face?" Elena asked, noticing Marra's defiance. "He won't, I can promise you that. He is off roaming the woods in search of soldiers that were never there," she said with a light laugh, clutching at her heart. "You're such a stupid girl, playing at being a fierce one," she said, looking condescendingly down her nose at Marra. Robb, Marra thought, and felt her eyes prickle and a lump form in her throat. She pictured his handsome face and sweet smile, and could almost hear his voice in the early rays of the morning. If she had known what this day would bring, she would have held him a little tighter and kissed him a little longer. She closed her eyes and felt his hand running down her arm and his breath tickling her ear. When she opened her eyes once more, a single tear rolled quickly down her cheek. No more, she told herself, I must see an end to this, no more tears, and roughly pushed the thought of his loving embrace far from her mind. "Come now, you've done so well, don't start with the tears now!" Elena said, and pushed the trail of wetness harshly from her face. "Save your tears for later, you're going to need them," she growled threateningly, hauling Marra forcefully from her seat by a handful of her hair, and shoving her violently towards the featherbed. She couldn't hold back the cry of pain that fell from her lips, not for her tingling scalp, or the burn around her wrists, but for the tight squeezing pressure she felt deep within her lower back. 


	36. Chapter 36

Joryn's boots clacked and skidded on the stones as they fought for traction. Her knuckles turned white from gripping her skirts high off the ground and away from her churning legs. She wondered for a moment if she were not mad, perhaps she is just practicing her needlework. No, Joryn thought, steeling herself and propelling her body forward, she isn't. At first she hadn't known what to think, standing outside her good sister's door, hearing her words. Taking up needlework? She had almost laughed loudly, her mirth building on her tongue, before her mind caught her. Just as I told you I would, echoed in her ears, the memory of the nursery replayed behind her eyelids. She could hear Marra whisper 'with a knife to my throat,' and Joryn's stomach plummeted deeper than the crypts below the castle. For a few heartbeats she struggled with herself, fighting to keep her fists from pounding violently upon the door. Holding in her breath, the food in her guts began to swirl as she replied cautiously. Marra's single word response was all the confirmation she needed. Joryn knew she had to seek help, but from who? Ned and Robb were both gone. Her good sisters? They were highly skilled, but none of them would be able to bring down the chamber door. Her mind clicked through faces, ticking them off and discarding them, all except the half face of one. 

Rushing headlong down the corridor to her good father's solar, she saw the guards curiously eyeing her rapid approach. Instead of slowing her steps, her body burst with adrenaline at the sight of his door, and her voice rang out around them, commanding them to stand aside. They looked hesitantly at one another, unsure if they should let her pass, but she didn't give them the chance to decide. She ran straight into the wood, pushing her hands harshly in front of her upon the grain. The door jumped open, and swung wide, bouncing upon the stone on the other side. Startled at her sudden intrusion, her good father was already standing, his recently vacated chair pushed away from him and his blade drawn. 

"Bloody hell, She-Bear," he barked, dropping his sword arm, his one good eyebrow furrowed as he took her in, skidding to a stop before him, "I could have cleaved you clean in two!" 

"Please, I need your help!" She wailed, and her lip began to tremble with the rest of her body. Her good father sheathed his sword and his eyes narrowed as he waited for her to continue. When she fought for breath, he closed the gap between them, resting the hand of his shield arm upon her shoulder. "Marra is in danger, I think," she gritted out between gulps of air. His face darkened at her words and the exposed muscle of his jaw began to jump.

"Where is she?" He rasped, giving Joryn's shoulder a slight shake.

"In her chamber, she was supposed to meet me in the gardens but she never came. I went to find her but she wouldn't let me in," Joryn rushed, pulling at his outstretched arm and attempting to steer them to the door, wishing they could be on their way already. 

"Mayhaps she is having a rest," he rasped, his feet planted firmly, rooting him to the spot.

"No, she told me she had taken up needlework," Joryn started, but before she could finish, her good father's laughter ripped from his throat. "She told me she would never take it up again unless she had a knife to her throat!" Joryn hissed, her ire eclipsing his laughter, turning his face serious. 

"And you believe that to be the case?" Her good father asked, his unflinching gaze boring into her eyes. When she nodded, he pushed her towards the door, his boots right on her heels.

They walked swiftly, twisting and turning through the corridors, until he turned abruptly, heading down a passage away from Marra's apartments. She whipped her head in both directions, panicked that he had decided to go elsewhere and abandon their mission. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the hesitation upon her face. "Wrong way, She-Bear," was all he offered, his strides never slowing. Her mouth opened and closed like a landed trout, but she followed him, none the less. He led her to a part of the castle that she had not yet explored, no chambers existed in this wing, nor library, nor anything of worth, really. She had been told that it was storage rooms for old tapestries and worn down household items waiting out their days until they were repurposed. Perhaps he has a battering ram hidden here, she thought, though how just the two of them would carry and use it, she was uncertain. 

"You know who I am, who I was. Before I came here," he rasped, striding purposefully over the stones. She had to strain her ears to make out his hushed low words. "The Northmen didn't take too kindly to mine union with their lady. Buggering shites weren't quiet about their thoughts, either," he spat, as though he had sucked on a sourleaf, the thought leaving a tart residue in his mouth. "The stonemasons had already begun restoring the castle by the time we wed. Ned was six years when all of the living quarters were complete." He stopped and turned so suddenly in front of a barely visible alcove that Joryn almost ran right into him. His eyes searched her face, looking for something, though what she was unsure. "She-Bear, if an enemy gets into your chambers and restrains you, what will they do if someone takes a battering ram to the door?" He rasped sternly, waiting for her answer.

"Kill you, most likely," she said uneasily, and her mind worked at what he was trying to tell her. Is he saying all is already lost, she wondered.

"Aye. I rebuilt this castle from my own coin during a time that every man from here to Dorne was itching to take my head, my pup's heads, and my place, besides. Bloody hell, they would still take my place gladly," he rasped, turning his back on her and running his hands over the stones high on the wall of the alcove. "I may have made a few alterations to the original layout of the castle, but it was my coin and my litter," he whispered over his shoulder, and just for a moment Joryn thought she may have heard the wisps of guilt in his tone. "The Targaryens weren't all mad, and even still, a madman can have at least one good idea in his life," and at his words, the wall began to move inwardly, revealing a dark passage. Joryn gasped at the sight, and her good father eyed her slack jaw warily over his shoulder. "You'll not speak of this to anyone, not a soul. I went to great lengths, and even greater coin, to import men to work on this." 

"Never a word, I swear it," Joryn said solomnly, placing her hand upon her good father's arm. He nodded once and that seemed to be all the affirmation needed. He stepped into the darkness, pulling her in behind him, before securing the hidden stone door back into place. She couldn't see the hand in front of her face but could hear him moving in front of her, and soon flames jumped before them, lighting the cramped passage and casting his face in an eerily menacing glow. He held the torch far away from his body, as though he thought it may suddenly engulf him, and she felt her heart break at the sight of him holding his greatest foe at bay. "It would be easier if I carried it, since I don't know the way," she said meekly, stretching out her arm. For a few heartbeats he regarded her with his piercing eyes, before handing over the flames. She thought she saw a flicker of relief in his eye once he was rid of it, and she wanted to pull him into an embrace, not unlike the ones his daughters gave him at the end of every sword practice. He motioned her forward with his hand, and she followed, holding the fire slightly away from them, lest he feel the heat of it. If she had known her father, she would have wanted him to be like him, but she didn't and listening to her mother tell her that her father was a bear was like a slap to her face. When she was younger she had thought it was funny, and all the people on Bear Island had played along, praising her ferocity and telling her it was the bear blood in her veins. But now, as a woman grown, she knew that their words were those of pity, hoping to make a fatherless girl happy, even if only for a moment. She followed silently behind her good father as they began ascending a set of narrow steps, climbing higher and higher within the stifling confines of their path. She could see outlines of hidden doors along the way, and for a moment her heart beat madly in her chest, once more.

"Is there a hidden door to Ned's quarters here?" She asked, fearing the answer, and feeling a bit embarrassed. 

"Aye, all of my pups," he whispered back, moving silently through the corridor. Sensing her unrest, he glanced quickly over his shoulder. "Fear not, She-Bear, the show in the Godswood was enough for a thousand lifetimes," he rasped, not unkindly, never slowing his pace. She felt her blood calm and her mind quiet at his words. They crept over the stones for what seemed like a long time to Joryn. Just when she thought they'd most likely never reach their destination she heard a small whimper of pain travelling down the path and assaulting their ears. Her good father's hand shot to his mouth, motioning her to be quiet. She nodded her understanding at his glance. Her blood boiled with each step they took, punctuated by Marra's sorrowful sounds that grew louder as they advanced. He pointed to the outline of a hidden door and met her eye. She saw fear there and anger, rage even, as the scent of blood crept around the stones and assaulted their noses.


	37. Chapter 37

Robb's heart beat faster than the sound of his horse's hooves pounding upon the earth. The distance between him and Winterfell felt like a thousand leagues. He had heard Ned calling out behind him but never once did he turn and never once did he slow his mount. He knew that he ran the risk of blowing its joints, but he couldn't stop. His chest heaved and his breath came quickly, as though he were the one running, and not his horse. The blood in his veins rushed through his ears, yet he could hear Ma-rra chanted in the hoofbeats on the packed ground. Robb's mind raced faster than his steed, and his thoughts taunted him. You're not fast enough, it screeched, behind his hard set face. You'll never make it, you'll kill your horse before you even see the outer wall, it sang disparagingly. Baring his teeth and rising from his saddle, he bellowed out a fierce yell, pushing his poor mount all the harder. 

* * *

Elena was strong from all the years of manual labor, Marra squirmed against her grip and found it more firm than she had hoped. What would Robb do, she wondered, and her mind belittlingly responded, 'Not get caught.' What was it he had said, the hardest part of winning a match was identifying their weakness? What was Elena's weakness? It wasn't physically, that was evident. Mentally was most definitely guaranteed. But what move can I do on her? Marra's mind flew through the fighting stances she had seen Robb practice in the yard, but all of them were agile and able-bodied. Robb would never allow himself to be cornered, her mind tittered, and Elena's hands pushed harshly upon the binds at hers to tie them to the headboard. Quick as a flash, Marra bit down roughly on the extended arm by her face, the warm taste of copper flowing over her tongue and Elena's scream ringing in her ears. Elena jumped away, leaving a mouthful of herself between Marra's teeth and her dagger on the bed. Marra spit the chunk of flesh and blood from between her lips as she felt her stomach threatening to spill. Grabbing the dagger, she rolled to the other side of the bed and off, sawing frantically at her binds. She could feel another pain coming on deep in her body, not yet my sweet, she begged. 

"You filthy bitch!" Elena screeched, holding her arm tightly to her, the blood pulsing and turning her gown red. "That, you will regret, I promise you," she said menacingly low and started to make her way around the great featherbed. Marra scrambled back atop the furs, the rope between her wrists growing smaller and smaller. Just as relief washed over her with the brokenness of her binds, another pang of labor rolled through her, seizing her body and causing her to cry out. The small distraction was all that Elena needed, and she leapt onto the bed, knocking Marra off balance and onto her back. She fought to hold onto the hilt of the dagger but Elena was too strong and wrenched the blade from her hands. The maid sat atop her thighs and hit her with the full force of her fist. Darkness crept in and blurred the edges of Marra's vision. A flash flying through the air caught her eye and her hands shot up to stop it. She closed her eyes tightly, turning her face away from her imminent demise. Her fingers strained around Elena's wrists, just barely holding the blade from her, and a grunt of frustration ripped out of her parched throat. The dagger inched slowly forward and Marra's muscles began to shake with ache and strain. She could feel the tip meet the tender skin of her neck, and tried to push herself deeper into the featherbed. With her eyes clenched shut, she thought of Robb and how he had laid on this very bed that same day. She thought of the time she had awoke in this bed to find him stroking her belly in the middle of the night, holding a candle over them while he watched their sweet babe move against his hand. She thought of her child's face, and imagined the son she would never see. He would be tall and broad like Robb, with his dark hair and easy smiles. Perhaps he would have had my eyes, she thought, a tear escaping the corner of her eye and rolling down to disappear in her hairline. She pictured their child as a girl, looking just like all of Robb's sisters, and like his mother. Images of a little girl with auburn hair and her green eyes running through the yard with Robb filled her mind. She saw Robb teaching their daughter to saddle a horse and track the cats of the keep, her little legs pumping to keep up with his long strides until he just swept her up in his arms, laughing and kissing her cheeks. Marra tried to focus on the pictures in her mind as she felt the tip of the dagger digging harder into her throat, blood welling up on her neck and tears welling up in her eyes. She clenched her eyes tighter, willing the images to stay with her when she needed them most, but they were whisked away, along with the weight on her body. Her eyes flew open and a sob flew from her lips. Her good father stood at the bed, one hand on the scruff of Elena's neck, lifting her up. The other was gripped tightly over the maid's hands upon the hilt. Faster than Marra could blink, his arm jerked and the ball of the hilt hit Elena squarely on her temple. The maid's eyes had barely fluttered shut before he had dropped her unceremoniously upon the floor. For a moment she thought it was part of her visions, and blinked slowly, once, twice and thrice. 

"Am I dead?" She croaked hoarsely, her hand fluttering to her throat to feel the fatal gash that had to be there.

"Do I look the Stranger?" He rasped quietly, looking at her solemnly. "Mayhaps I do," he laughed a short barking laugh and ran his hand over his scars. She couldn't hold back the sob, halfway between joy and sorrow. Her back spasmed and her body clenched, yet a voice had never sounded so sweet to her ears. "How long have you been laboring, girl?" He said suddenly, placing his hand upon her forehead. At the soft touch of his rough hand she broke down in earnest, the fear and pain of the past hours crashing and coursing through her. Her hands gripped his arm tightly, pulling him close to her. She tried her best to respond, but all that came out were wails coated in tears. "Shh, now, you're safe," he tried, patting her head. "I'll go get the maester, calm yourself now," he rasped, but fear gripped her heart at his words, and she shot up from the bed and into his hesitant arms. 

"Don't leave!" She shrieked, her body wracking and trembling with her sobs. "Please, don't leave me!" All of her strength left her and she leaned into him. His arms and chest felt like Robb's, which caused a new wave of tears to overtake her. 

"I'll not leave you, but you must collect yourself now," he rasped, patting her shoulder, the vice grip of her arms tightening his about lungs. She nodded against him and tried to will her dread and tears away. "You needs see the maester, the babe is coming." 

"Yes," she whispered against him, clenching her eyes tightly shut and biting her lips. "I need Robb," burst through her lips and her body shook with silent tears, joining their salty sisters upon her good father's tunic. 

"He will be here soon, and you will present him with a healthy babe," her good father said with a slight waver, giving her a tight squeeze.

"You think he is lost to us, I heard it!" She wailed, and released him to bring a hand to fist in her own hair.

"If he can make it back, he will, I can promise you that," he gently rasped, and untangled her fingers from her tresses as another labor pain doubled her over. "A couple hours, is that how long you've felt the pains? Have you felt like pushing, like you needs shit?" He tried, her fingers digging painfully into his arm, and a wail coming through her gritted teeth. She gasped and looked quickly at her good father. Had he really just asked her if she needed to use the chamber pot? "I've watched eight babes come into this world, girl, close your gaping mouth," he rasped gently. She closed her lips on her protests, yet her eyes stayed as wide as saucers. "We still have time to get you to the maester if you haven't felt it." She nodded slowly and allowed her good father to stand, cradling her against him. The feel of it reminded her of Robb, and she hid her face in her good father's shoulder, whispering Robb's name like a prayer as soft cries overtook her once more. Marra felt his chest rumble with words, but none of them were directed to her. Lifting her face, she saw Joryn standing over Elena's form, watching her with disgust. 

"Joryn!" Marra cried, reaching her hand out to her good sister. All of the maid's words came rushing back, and she couldn't help the confession falling off her lips. "She, she's been giving you moontea!" She exclaimed, her eyes focusing out of her fog and pointing to Elena's form. Joryn's face fell slack and she pulled herself up taller, as though she were trying to hide the pain of the words. Their good father grunted harshly, and kicked the maid's knee, a hard crack bouncing off the stones. "Watch her, She-Bear," he rasped, unbolting the door and swinging it wide. 


	38. Chapter 38

Robb had only moments to leap from his saddle when he felt his mount falter and stagger under him, before crashing down to the earth. Pain shot through his knee and up his leg at his harsh landing, his head tucked and his body rolling away from the horse. He laid upon the hard ground blinking rapidly at the blue sky, his mind urging him to get up, but his body unwilling to cooperate. Glancing at his poor steed, he saw slickness at its flanks and nostrils. Its eyes were open, but unseeing, and no breath moved its chest. "Fuck!" Robb screamed, his fist pounding upon the ground beside him, the tendons in his neck twitching. He pulled his legs under him, testing them slowly with his weight and wobbling slightly. Inching his way to his dead mount, he felt tears prickle in his eyes at the sight. He laid his hand upon its mane, and felt guilt and grief crash through him. "I'm sorry, my friend," he whispered, the words choking and sticking in his dry throat. Wiping roughly at the tear that escaped from his eye, he gently pulled down the eyelids of the horse with his fingertips. His mind touted a quick prayer to the old gods as his feet began to walk unsteadily away from his companion, and then broke into a run.

* * *

 Maester Doyen gasped and his eyes widened at the sight of her in her good father's arms. She could hear his robes swishing about his ankles and his urgent voice commanding the guards and servants to fetch the midwife and various supplies. Raising her hand to her face, she felt the swollen tenderness around her eye from Elena's fist. Her fingers trailed down her cheek to the skin around her mouth and felt flakes of dried blood crusted upon her chin. Moving to her neck, her fingertips found the mark of the dagger, and she winced at her probing touch. Her eyes darted to the front of her shift and fell upon the large red blood stain. A small laugh bubbled from her throat, thinking she must look a mess. The moment of amusement died inside of her when her body seized so tightly that it felt like a giant had grasped her about the middle. 

"How long has it been?" She heard the maester inquire through her pain filled haze to her good father. 

"A few hours, most like," she felt his chest rumble against her. Her teeth clenched together so tightly that she feared they may crack and grind to dust in her mouth.

"Here," the maester said, indicating something that her eyes couldn't see behind her eyelids. When she felt her good father move and her body being laid on a bed, she clutched tightly at his tunic. 

"P-please," she begged, fear shooting through her just as quickly as her laboring. 

"Look at me, girl," he rasped, and she turned her eyes slowly to him, "I can't stay here with you, I needs go handle the matter I left in your chamber." Her lip began to tremble at his words, frightened at the thought of being alone. "You'll be safe here, believe that. Maester Doyen is to be trusted, he delivered Robb, and Ned before him, and all the pups after. I'll station guards without, no one will enter," he rasped gently, patting the back of her hand where her fingers were fisted upon the cloth at his arm.

"Robb, please, he is all I have," she tried, her shoulders shuddering with a threatening sob.

"Not all," he rasped, peeling her fingers from him. "You have other family here," he rasped quietly, "Mayhaps I can fetch the litt-Lady Sansa, would you like her to sit with you for a bit?"

"Yes, please," she pleaded, her muscles relaxing slightly, allowing her hand to fall from him. He nodded once, and straightened himself, before striding to the door and exiting. She could hear him barking at the guards in the corridor, and sent up a silent prayer when another wave coursed through her. 

* * *

"I've posted guards outside the door, no one will be admitted without your consent, believe that," Sandor rasped, kissing Sansa upon the crown. "The gods help them if they try, little bird," he rasped into her hair, patting the hilt of his sword.

"I love you too, Sandor," Sansa whispered, catching his cheek in her palm and pulling him down for a chaste kiss. He grunted slightly upon her lips, but she could feel the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile against her. She had realized long ago that her husband would never be the type of man to spout his undying love, as deep as it may run. Even now, she could recall almost every time he had said the words. When they were first wed she had been disappointed that he was reluctant to return her sentiments, until she had learned to see it rather than hear it. The words were something that his tongue had never quite mastered, but that didn't stop his actions from screaming them with each day. She heard it every morning with his kiss upon her hand, as sure as the dawn. She heard it every evening when he would show up to personally escort her to their meal, caressing her arm and slowing his strides to match hers. She saw it in his eyes whenever he would watch her plate to make sure she was eating, even more so when she didn't finish and, with concern in his face, he would ask her if she felt ill. She knew it when he would lay her down atop their furs and run his hands down her legs to her feet, kneading away the tightness in her muscles until she sighed peacefully, expecting nothing in return. And she knew it now, without a doubt, that when he drew steel against those that might harm her, that he did so not out of hate driven rage, but out of the unyielding love he held for her.

When she had first began responding to his actions with words of love, he had seemed slightly put off, as though it were a secret that she wasn't supposed to know. His resolve finally broke one evening after she had laid abed with a running nose. He had sent her maid away and spooned broth into her mouth, wiping gently at her chin to collect the liquid that had dribbled there. Once she had finished the bowl, he took up her hairbrush and pulled her head to his lap, softly stroking her tresses until she waded in and out of sleep. 

"I love you too, Sandor," she had whispered upon his thigh. His hand paused for a brief moment before he started again, sweeping the brush from her head, across his lap, and to the ends on his other side.

"Aye, so you've found me out. You've always been a smart one," he rasped softly into the dying light of their chamber. She had surrendered herself to sleep with a smile on her lips and her head in his lap, her hand curled tightly around his leg, just above his knee. 


End file.
